Eyes Like Mine
by ValerieArgent16
Summary: It's been 7 years since he left her and he keeps her identity a secret from everybody. She was born in the worst slam of all, Crematoria; but when Necromongers set out to destroy the last threat to their survival, Riddick knows she is no longer safe inside the slam and with eyes like his, she doesn't blend into the crowd. Will she forgive him for abandoning her? Can he save her?
1. Prologue

Prologue.

_*Riddick's POV*_

**U. V. SYSTEM; PLANET 6.**

It has been five years since I have smelt Mercenaries – dirty, sweaty and full of useless adrenaline – and it still arouses the same boiling hatred inside me as it did before. It has been a long one-thousand eight-hundred and twenty-six days since I've had to interact with another single human, let alone four all at once and just like it did before; it bores and aggravates me hugely and deeply.

The thick snow tangled itself in my long beard and hair, freezing almost instantly due to the sub-zero temperatures as I ran steadily over the ice tops towards the dense cave mouth a few yards in front. I listened intently to the noises radiating from behind me; the rumbling of engines and heavy intakes of air taken by the men situated in holsters hanging from either side of the ships metal wings, wielding large guns loaded with nets attached to sharp steel-headed arrows. I knew it wasn't going to be long until people began to question my fictional death and another bounty was placed upon my head. And to think, I was just getting used to the idea of freedom, stupid me, a convict should know better than to use childish words like that.

I darted quickly and agilely into the mysterious cave dodging the hunting nets being rapidly fired after me but as I moved out from behind a tall pillar made out of frozen-solid rock, one of the steel arrows slyly entered through the well-toned muscle of the gastrocnemius in my lower left leg. I paused for a millisecond to crouch down and swiftly removed the arrow free from my limb before turning back to growl angrily at the Mercenary ship hovering a meter-or-so outside the cave entrance with its brightly headlights lightening up the inside of the cave.

"Riddick." A snarling voice echoed happily from the elderly speakers situated on top of the craft either side of the pilot's windscreen.

I stood up quickly and turned gracefully in one swift movement to face the ship, strapped safely into the pilot seat, a male Merc – Toombs – shouted orders to his crew members, the men on the wings examined the entrance and wittedly shouted back to him about the density of the cave mouth but Toombs was ballsy and insisted there was enough room for the ship to fit through the cave from where he was sitting; the men didn't argue with him, they reloaded their guns and steadied themselves. I grinned darkly and from my furred I removed my recently sharpened shiv's and used my head to gesture for them to come into the cave, drawing them in as best as I could before darting into the shadows, the uneven walls of the cave were created and shaped by thick frozen snow and my shiv's dug into the walls with ease allowing me to climb-up without a strain and pull myself up onto a narrow ledge; the caves interior was filled with these narrow ice ledges that presented unsteady pathways to different spots within the cave. I needed the Merc's to come inside, I wanted their ship and I was going to take it from them.

My heavy snow boots sunk into the ledges as I edged a small distance around the inside of the cave to stand onto a much larger ledge where another frozen pile of rock was situated. I darted across the open gap to press my back firmly against the rocks slipping around the sides depending on the angle of the Merc on the left wing. Timing is critical; as the male disappeared from view coming towards me behind the pile of rock, I twisted myself right – shiv's gripped tightly in my hands – as the ships wing drifted passed slowly, the long blade cut with ease through the top of the tensed material of the Merc's holster, releasing him and allowing him to plummet to the ground. Not killing him, with the amount of snow beneath, it would be difficult even at this height to die from falling. With the ship still moving, I gripped onto the cold metal of the back wing and pulled myself up to the safety of the ships roof. The second Merc on the wing was cut free within five seconds of his co-worker.

_Two down; two to go_. My own sly voice chuckled inside my head, I knew this was going to be easy but boy, I didn't think it would be this easy. The headlights on the front of the ship turned from one wing to another as Toombs slowly began to grasp the reality his crew was disappearing but he refused to turn around, instead, he ordered his last crewmember to grab the last net gun from the rack beside Toombs pilot seat and open the ships entrance/exit door because he was now Toombs new gunner but he was to remain in the doorway. Not a problem for me.

I crouched down on the edge of the ships curved metal roof, watching the Merc inches below me with curious eyes as he scanned the ground below him and the caves walls in front, his body emitted an overpowering mix of smells: sweat and fear. Fear is an unusual smell, it's different for each unique person; his was a rich smell similar to cinnamon and honey, sickly. As the Merc muttered words of encouragement to himself, I reached down to grab the coat situated at his shoulders knocking him off balance before lifting and pulled him forwards, effectively dragging him over the ledge, the gun escaped his grip and plummeted to the sharp rocks shattering into metal pieces, the Merc's body narrowly missed a similar fate. The long yell the Merc seemed necessary to release from his lungs as he fell alerted Toombs inside the ship. I listened intently to the sounds emerging from the ships interior; the swivelling of the pilots chair back and forth then swiftly followed by the clicking and flicking of buttons. Certain that Toombs was otherwise occupied putting the ship into hover mode than to watch his own back, I swung silently into the Mercenary ship and took a pleasant seat on top of the cargo boxes placed at the rear of the ship by the door and watched Toombs successfully place the ship into hover mode then swivel around in his chair with his eyes locked on the unbuckle button of his seatbelt but before he could undo his belt, freeing himself, I spoke.

"You made three mistakes," I said clearly as Toombs raised his head upwards to stare at me. "First; you took the job. Second; you came light, a four man crew for me? Fucking insulting. But the third and worst mistake you made…"

Toombs quickly pressed down on the button releasing the buckles of his seatbelt and darted sharply for the gun rack – which was empty – he sighs angrily and glanced up at me.

"…Empty gun rack." I tut.

I knew myself across the small gap to grab a large handful of Toombs black hair and slam his head forcefully against the wall of the ship splitting open the skin on top of the eyebrow bone. Toombs's body flopped like a fish into one of the crewmember's seats. I carefully removed one of my long shiv's from my coat.

"What's the bounty on my head?" I ask.

"One mil." Toombs spat.

Liar. My glare hardened as I stamped all my weight onto Toombs's right foot before stabbing only the tip of my shiv into the inner side of his left knee.

"One-point-five." Toombs revealed.

I distinctly licked the inner rim of my bottom lip, "What slam pays one-point-five for a convict?" I questioned.

Toombs clocked his head to the side quickly, "Private party." He spat again.

I clenched my teeth annoyed by Toombs sudden burst of confidence, I removed the blade from his flesh and ran the blade up the inside of his leg cutting the cheap fabric on the way up towards his groin.

"Hey!" Toombs cried, I stopped the blade, "Anonymous, that's what the sheet said!" he said loudly raising his hands in a mock surrender.

"WHAT PLANNET!" I yelled fiercely.

"Helion Prime." Toombs muttered in defeat.

My stomach retracted painfully as my chest tightened but this was no time for weakness, especially not in front of a Mercenary but Toombs snatched his opportunity during my brief moment of struggle. He leapt forward but I was faster, I raised the sharp blade to his throat restricting his movement.

"Whoa, where are you going?" I ask humorously, "Last question and you better get this one right Merc; whose ship is this?"

Toombs raised a curious eyebrow, "Mine?" he chocked.

I signed heavily and grabbed the back of Toombs head, pulled him up from his seat and led him to the door of the ship before kicking him off. I closed and locked the door shut before taking a seat in the pilot's station and putting the ship into gear so I can leave this godforsaken planet behind for good.

I knew they'd come for me, took them five years but I knew. You don't expect these Merc to have any honour, any code but this new bounty from a Holy-Man, a guy whose neck I saved once, a lesson learnt, no such word as friend, it can only end badly when you let someone get to close. Bad for them.

So now back to all brightness and everything I hate. I wonder if she will be there. Little Jack.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One.

_*Riddick's POV*_

**HELION SYSTEM; PLANET HELION PRIME.**

The stone ground beneath my feet was covered in a thin layer of orange sand, I ignored the soaring temperatures and kept my fur coat on and my hood up hiding my face as I walked quickly down the wide streets that were overcrowded with smooth skinned people of a range of soft colours. The people making up the crowds wore simple material clothing, the men wore long sleeved shirt and trousers made of cotton and dyed into friendly colours such as orange, blue and yellow with knitted waistcoats and religious headgear; for the women it was different, they wore dresses made from light, flexible and gentle materials such as silk and wool, pricey materials. Both genders despite age darted from stall to stall buying fabrics and foods or swapping friendly words with relatives and friends but among the calm vibes there was panic, men and women shared hushed words so quiet that even I found myself trying a little harder than usual to pick up on entire sentences.

"It is the end of everything!" one man cried to his friends as I passed, his voice remained no more than a whisper.

"Them? Who is them?" a young child asked her mother a little more loudly than the man before her.

I removed myself from the busy streets and headed north through the maze of narrow alleyways keeping my head hung low with my tangled hair draped over my eyes helping to conceal my identity from anybody I passed. The orange stone buildings towered high into the clear sky, each home identical to the next but that wasn't a problem, I'd spent hours layered upon hours on that pitch black planet with him; his scent was no stranger to me as it lingered uncomfortably in my flaring nostrils.

I trusted my instincts and wondered basing my direction purely on his smell; it lead me to a small square that was vacant except for an elderly women cleaning a carpet and a toddler playing with a long stick and a large wooden hoop, both too busy to notice me slip across the square to the front door. Locked. I've never been a fan of locked door. I growled with irritation whilst stepping back to study the large home, a large balcony was placed on the second floor of the home but I couldn't exactly climb up and run across the roof with the expectation of being unnoticed.

_Shit_, this nosey kid is now watching me. My hands tightened into fists as irritation flooded my body, I released a soothing breath as I walked slowly over to the alleyway that ran between the two homes, the quiet sound of singing filled the humid air, I arched my head upwards to see an open window with the loose curtain flapping in the open breeze. I wedged myself between the two homes and scaled up the building agilely. As I climbed higher, the singing got louder and the indulging smell of lavender and mint shampoo filled my nostrils.

I climbed in silently through the window entering the bedroom beside the wash room, steam leaked out from above and beneath the carved wooden screen seeping into the bedroom. I studied the room for a second, old oak made up the room's furniture, religious symbols stood on the shelves along with books and items of expensive jewellery; placed on the bedside table was a large photo, I picked up the framed object and examined it carefully. Five short years and he now has a family; a young daughter with frizzy brown hair matching her mothers, I placed down the photo back onto the wooden table and exited the bedroom onto the large landing, down the marble stairs and onto the ground floor.

The house was different from anything that I've witnessed before, but of course the inside of slam aren't exactly heavily decorated nowadays. Every wall was painted the warming colour of light brown or dark red, thick pillars randomly rose from the ground gripping onto the ceiling. Decoration such as carvings and paintings covered every inch giving the home more of a temple like feeling instead of a homey feeling. Despite not ever feeling like I've belonged to a home, I expected he would do anything to make his family feel welcome and safe.

Behind the stairs on a chest of draws beside a cabinet filled with different remedies, I dipped my blade into the bowl of water I'd collected from the kitchen at the back of the home before running the sharp metal over my scalp removing the tattered hair then flicking it onto the tiled ground; having hair was not a look that suited me nor was it something I enjoyed. As I removed the last section of hair from the back of my head, the heavy wooden door opened and entered a fatigued Imam. His body smelt like worn down leather, he sighed heavily unaware of my presences and processed over to the stairs gripping the banister either side of him.

"Did y'know all your doors were locked?" I asked breaking the silence.

Imam's body tensed at the sound of my voice, he released the banister from his grip and stepped around searching for the source of my voice. Eventually he figured out I was behind the stairs and tiptoed into the gap the small foyer to overlook the cabinet I was stood at.

"She's in the shower," I say when I feel his gaze remove from my body, "She's alive." I assure him.

I held the shiv in my hand as I turned to face the man I once called a friend, his skin was wrinkled with age, his thin wire glasses balanced evenly on the bridge of his nose as his body shook emitted an over powerful sense of fear and tension.

"I told one man where I might go," I said sternly, "I showed trust to one man. Did I make a mistake, Imam?"

Imam's body shook dangerously but I didn't care, it wasn't anger driving me anymore, it was shame, I should know better than to trust someone especially a holy-man. My body jerked as I raised the blade to Imam's throat as he went to answer.

"Whatever was said, was to give us a fighting chance," Imam said softly, "I never would have betrayed you if it wasn't for the threat of invasion."

The sound of shuffling small feet echoed from the landing above us, I removed the blade from Imam's throat and placed it into my knife holster as I studied the frizzy haired girl sat hiding behind the metal railings, her large brown eyes studied my face carefully before locking eyes with mine.

"I give you my word Riddick." Imam swore. My body tensed in reaction to Imam using my name.

The little girl rose sharply from her hidden place, "Riddick?" she echoed her father.

A women wondered across the landing and paused, "Oh, Riddick," the heavily accented women echoed her daughter.

I turned sharply as the little girl sprinted across the landing to the top of the stairs where her mother gripped her shoulders violently to prevent her from coming any closer. I curled my fingers around the metal carvings of the side of the stairs leaning my head over the banister and looking up at the intriguing child at the top of the stairs fighting her mother's grip.

"Your name would be?" I ask temptingly.

Imam defensively darted up behind me, "You need not know of their names." He warned.

"Ziza," the young girl said, "My name is Ziza."

Imam sighed heavily, a small smile crept across my face as the young girl – Ziza – so happily defied her father without thinking twice. I glided over to the bottom of the stairs gripping the pillar and the banister before leaning in again to study not Imam's daughter but his wife. Tall and slender without any muscle, not particularly pretty but she had her qualities, large brown eyes with sharp facial bone structure. Her name is Lajjun, I can't pronounce it but who give a shit, she stares at me with disgust like I am Satan in a skin suit.

"Go on Ziza," the women ordered the child whilst pushing her roughly away from the top of the stairs.

Imam lead me upstairs into his study; it was a dark room that contained bookshelves filled with endless astronomy and astrophysics books, ten-or-so candles were darted unevenly throughout the room keeping it light enough for Imam to see but not too bright that it was uncomfortable for my eyes. The middle section of the far wall was replaced with a large window allowing the night sky to pour inwards. I took a seat in the far right hand corner as Imam shut the oak door and wandered over to the window staring up at the sky holding a religious trinket tightly entwined between his bony fingers.

"It is said the comets precedes them," Imam muttered, "These world enders."

I'm silent.

"Eight million settlers missing," Imam continued wisely, "Entire systems destroyed. Helion Prime shares its sunlight with all planets nearby. It we fall, they fall."

I remained silent.

"Are you listening?" Imam snapped at me turning back harshly.

"You said it's trailing the universe, taking one planet at a time," I muttered, Imam nodded, "It all had to end sometime." I shrug.

Imam sighed heavily whilst turning back to look up at the sky from the window appalled by my answer but the end of the universe wasn't the main thing on the surface of my mind.

"How's Jack?" I ask quietly.

Imam turned to face me, "She goes by Jocelyn now; lives on earth; comes to visit every holiday."

At least she's safe, I worried that she would come after me, I'm glad she didn't. Jocelyn, nice name, pretty just like her. "Has Earth –"

"Been destroyed?" Imam finished my question, "No, she's safe. For now."

Three loud bangs echoed through the houses originating from the front door. Imam trailed from the window to the study door, opened it and stepped aside so three men, dressed head-to-toe in black, could enter. He shook their hands and greeted them kindly before they all stood in a line silently.

"The one you want is now here." Imam said proudly to the men after shutting the study door behind them.

_Fucking traitor_, a voice hissed inside my head as I whisked up from my seat to grip the silk material hung over the first males' mouth and ripping it from his face expecting to see Toombs or another Merc smiling smugly but instead, a dark tanned man stood dead-eyed in front of me, unfazed by my aggressive actions. Then, a gust of wind passed me, threatening to blow out the candles, I released my blade from my sleeve and held it up to the transparent figures throat, as I did, the figure became solid and revealed itself to be an elderly women. Wrinkled with snow white hair, the colour matching the saree she wore and the headscarf rapped around her neck and head.

"If you cut my throat, I'll not be able to resin the offer that brought you here," she said matter-of-factly, "Nor tell you why it was so vital that you did come."

"The blade came off when the bounty comes off." I snapped.

"This is Aereon, she's from the Elemental race," Imam stepped in grabbing my shoulder, "She means you no harm."

I glanced at Imam's hand rested upon my shoulder with no fear whatsoever giving Aereon time to vanish again like the wind and appear between two of the men she had brought along.

"There are very few who have met Necromonger and live to speak of it," Aereon said, "So when I speak of it, you better listen."

"Necromonger?" I said with a hint of humour as it sounded like a reject from a Saturday morning kids show.

"It is the name what will convert or kill every last human life, unless the universe can rebalance itself." Aereon snapped.

"Maybe you should realise you're not talking to someone educated in that system." I replied wittedly.

Aereon stared at me coldly, "Balance is everything to Elementals; water to fire; air to earth. We only have the time to speak about the value of opposites."

Imam moved to stand next to Aereon, "There is a story Riddick, about young male Furyans who were strangled at birth, strangled at birth by their own cords."

I turned on my heels putting my back to them as I thought back to five years ago, Imam asked if I wanted to pray on that planet, I refused, he told me something about although I don't believe in God, he believes in me. I replied; _you think someone could spend half their life in a slam with a horse bit in their mouth and not believe? Think he could start out in come liquor store trash bin with an umbilical cord wrapped around his neck and not believe._ The last sentence replayed over in my head, 'an umbilical cord wrapped around his neck'. Of course Imam would remember.

"When Aereon told this story to the Helion leaders," Imam continued, "I told her about you."

I rested my hands on the wood of the balcony to stead myself as footsteps shuffled uneasily towards me.

"What do you remember of your early years?" an unfamiliar voice asked me.

"What do you remember of your home planet? Where it was?" Imam asked.

"Are there any others?" the unfamiliar voice asked me again.

"Others like yourself?" Aereon asks.

Sweat gathered on the palm of my hands, across my forehead and my chest, I gripped the balcony tightly. "Sister, they don't know what to do with just one of me." I said deeply. I couldn't tell them that would jeopardise everything. All the years I spent protecting her would have been for nothing.

Aereon let out a small gasp after five quick seconds of silence, "There is another," she whispered.

My lips pursed with anger as I turned sharply, my eyes flaring with tension and disbelief, "How do you know?!" I growled sharply.

Aereon smiled slyly, "Your thoughts are full of her. Where is she?" she questioned, well more like demanded.

"Safe." I snapped and to prevent Aereon flicking through my thoughts, I began to think of everything that wasn't to do with her. Johns, Fry, Imam, the settlers everyone beside her. She was safe and that's all that matters.

"Riddick, you need to bring her to Elemental," Aereon insisted, "Or somewhere where she is safe because if Necromongers get a hold of her or you, they will try convert you both but if you refuse, they will kill you both."

Loud bangs shattered the conversation, I hung my head out the window to see half a dozen men yelling, all armed with either guns or knives, Imam's wife burst into the study and rushed over to Imam.

"There searching houses!" His wife said loudly, Imam hushed her silent, "They're looking for a man who came here today. They think he may be, a spy."

"A spy?" Imam questioned.

"Did someone see him come here today?!" She hissed. "Did they?" she demanded.

Imam turned back to me holding his hands together in a prayer manor, "I will send them away, but wait, one minute please. Just wait one minute to save worlds."

I held my shiv up in a threatening way, "This isn't our fight." I said.

"So, you will leave us to our fate, just like you did her." Imam growled.

"BREAK IT DOWN!" I heard the man outside yell to his men.

I sighed angrily and turned back to face Imam and nod. Imam returns my gesture and hurries the remaining people out of the room. Leaving Aereon alone with me, her cold glare makes my skin crawl as she paces up and down the room, you could hear the wheels in her head turning as she tries to anticipate my next movement but I remained stationary at the balcony overlooking the square as Imam's wife and daughter are forcefully removed from their home but they remained unharmed by the guards as people from hours surrounding come to help yelling profound things such as 'he can help us'. Imam's wife and child continue to try convince the guards I am not here.

"What does this all have to do with me and her?" I ask Aereon not turning around to meet her gaze.

"Thirty years ago, The Lord Marshall was delivered his fate by an Elemental, it was foretold that he would be killed by a young male Furyan. He led an attack on Furya in an attempt to void his fate. Up until now, it is believed that the remaining Furyans had been converted; that there were no survivors whatsoever. If it true that you are a Furyan; that she is to, you can stop the Necromongers." Aereon replied with hesitation.

I listened intently to the sound of eager footsteps and four gentle breathing patterns, I ordered Aereon to blow out the candles and surprisingly she did what I asked, turned into wind and removed the life from the flames before vanishing from the room. I waited for one man to kick the door open before the four of them entered. I stood in the corner as the wood shattered from the lock into large splinters as one man forcefully kicked the door by the lock forcing it open. I grabbed the nose of the first man's gun causing the material around his neck to tightened cutting off his air supply, the second man rapidly opened fire sending bullets into the dark, I sheltered myself behind the first man's body, once the second male thought he had put several bullets in me I pushed his co-worker onto him causing the second man to be temporally inactive. Man number three was certainly more of the fighting man as he gripped his arms around me, I stamped hand on his right foot whilst pulling my head forward then driving it backwards into the males' nose, the satisfying sound of bone breaking echoed throughout the room. Man number two went to swing at me, I ducked before grabbing the clothing he wore and threw him into the heavy bookshelf; a more solid body knocked into me causing my to stumble a little, I removed my shiv's as man number four came into play, he swung his knife holding hands at me, I dodged them rapidly, the best way to a man's heart is between the fourth and fifth rib and that is the way I went, my shiv slipped in neatly between the males' ribs piercing his heart, I twisted it firmly then removed it. Man number three revealed himself from the corner, his nose bleeding furiously he raised his hands in a surrender, I growled then used my head to gesture towards the doorway, he clutched his nose and vacated the room, sprinted down the stairs, passed Imam and out the front door swiftly followed by me.

The night sky was brightly lit with millions of stars and the comets continued to whirl aimlessly around. The square outside Imam's house was filled with his neighbours and rouge soldiers.

"Riddick?" the young Ziza asked, her mother hushed her and attempted to hide her away, "Are you going to kill the new monsters now?"

"You should all stay away from me," I sigh heavily, pulled my hood up over my head and left the square.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter Two.

_*Imam's POV*_

**NECROMONGER INVASION. **

Tension restricted the beaded necklace to entwine any tighter around my interlocked fingers as from the steps of my home I watched Riddick abandon the square with his long coat trailing along behind him hiding his sharp metal weapons with his Grim Reaper hood protecting his identity as he stormed off into the unknown streets of Helion Prime. It was in these small moments I wished Jocelyn was here for Riddick would not be able to leave her, not after five years of being apart and she certainly would not allow him to leave without a fight or promising to take her with him but this brand-new women that has been brought to the surface of Riddick's life was intriguing, was she Furyan? How long has he been hiding her away? Questions such as these snaked around my throat and squeezed tightly for I feared I shall never know the answers I seek. It is very clear Riddick does not understand the importance of his or this young women's survival if they are Furyan; he greatly underestimates himself being capable of doing something for the great-of-good but one thing I feared most of all is that he will not go after her until it was too late.

"Furyans; their defiant until the end." Aereon muttered from behind me proudly in the safety of my doorway.

I sighed heavily and shook my head, "Unfortunately, this is just Riddick." I say as I untwined the necklace from my fingers allowing the blood to recirculate before pulling the necklace over my head allowing the cross to hang freely at my chest.

The loud spitting of gunfire erupted from the many Helion Prime protection military buildings spread out across the planet sending glitches of light into the sky shattering the darkness. I rushed through the thin crowd to reunite with my family. I scooped my young daughter Ziza into my arms and hugged her to my chest tightly, her heart rapidly palpitated inside her chest echoing against mine; I tapped my wife Lajjun on the arm gently, she snapped her head from being arched upwards at the sky watching the one-sided battle unfold to lock eyes with me and our daughter. Her face was sunken with shock and her eyes were wide and frowning in understandable fear.

"We must go to the shelter," I whispered to her sternly, "We take only ourselves."

Lajjun drew in a deep breath before nodding and slipping her hand into mine and squeezing it tightly. I guided them through the panicked crowd that viciously pushed and shoved us around as the surrounding voices hissed and shouted at each other. The battle taking place in the sky grew worse as the number of Helion fighter ships and lives met their end raised as the Necromonger warrior ships deployed their fighter crafts. The battle thickened and we thought for a moment we were winning, especially when a large ship plummeted nose first into the ground as the bright flood lights scanned over the ship it quickly became clear that is wasn't a rough ship the Helion military had shot down, it was their statue, their Conquest Icon. The silver metal statue stood two-hundred-feet tall, from the ground you are unable to see the top because of the dark clusters of clouds. As the nose impaled the planets crust, the ground shook violently as the world's light around us flickered then turned to pitch black.

We scurried through the narrow alleyways like helpless rats dodging the crumbling stone that was once our home and sheets of dust that continued to rain down as the sound of engines rumbled and roared originating from the large statue as it released more Fighter ships into the air. Half of the Necromonger warrior ship fleet that were hovering in the sky landed on the flattened rubble around the bottom of the statue that was once Helion Prime and their soldiers were set free like a plague into the streets either capturing or destroying anything they crossed that was human.

Ziza, Lajjun and myself stumbled into an empty area of destroyed houses, pieces of fallen buildings lay scattered but the thundering sound of echoing gunshots made it difficult to determine which way was safest or decide whether they were truly alone or not.

I released Ziza from my clutch and put her down onto the floor, "Watch her." I ordered Lajjun, "I shall check if its clear."

Lajjun nodded and took Ziza forcefully by the hand and dragged her reluctantly over to the doorway of a home that was surrounded by rubble. I snapped my head repeatedly from side-to-side watching the empty street like a hawk as I jogged across the gap to the other side, when I reached the other side a Necromonger carrier hovered above slowly, I pressed my back up against the cold stone wall, the carrier continued on up the street for several meters before stopping and releasing Necromonger soldiers into the street. Unable to determine where the soldiers were heading, I beckoned Lajjun and Ziza across the small gap unaware of the rally of Helion soldiers marching through the streets from the opposite direction of where the Necromonger's landed. Shots were fired randomly from the Helion rally group causing Lajjun and Ziza to retreat back into their hiding spot and I to be repressed up against the wall exposed.

I gripped my hands into fists digging my nails into my palms, my pulse was ringing loudly in my ears as the stomping steps crept closer and closer to meet where I stood; keeping my back pressed up against the wall I fidgety edged up and down the wall desperately looking for a place to go when unexpectedly a large hand appeared from nowhere, grabbed the robe at my chest; twisted and dragged my forcefully from the war-zone and into a small porch masked by shredded curtains. At first I was certain it was a Necromonger solider but when the figure didn't attack me, I pried open my eyes and was more then relieved to see a part of silvery-purple luminous eyes standing in front of me.

"Oh, thank the Lord, Riddick." I sighed happily.

"Who else?" Riddick asked sarcastically.

I ignored the rhetorical question and moved leant forward to look around Riddick's muscular chest to peer through the silts in the curtains. The gunshots settled down as the Helion soldiers brought down the Necromonger's – who were not fighting back – one by one slowly, but before the last Necromonger died, he stabbed a silver sceptre he was wielding with a mould of a males face placed on the top, the sceptre released a blue light from the top. The blue light was a beacon.

"I must get my family." I said fighting his grip.

"When it's over." Riddick replied firmly.

A returning blue light plummeted from the sky and collided with the earth sending the Helion soldiers flying backwards to their deaths as bodies slammed against the still standing buildings and pieces of rubble whisked up from the ground crashing into the bodies. Riddick held tightly onto my robe keeping me back until after the dust settled, he released me but at the intimidating sound of footsteps echoed through the eerie streets I stayed hidden behind Riddick despite me being taller, Riddick was much more muscularly than I.

"I'm borrowing a ship; your welcome to ride along, if you don't mind riding with a convict." Riddick said quietly.

I pursed my lips, "Thank you but I must get my family across the river. God willing there is a shelter–"

"Look, I'm sure God has his tricks but getting out of places no one else can, that's one of mine." Riddick mutters matter-of-factly, "Let's go get your family."

The Necromonger soldiers passed oblivious to either me and Riddick or Lajjun and Ziza on either side of the narrow street. We removed ourselves shyly from our hiding places with fear still lingering the Necromonger's would hear or see us and return but Riddick was certain they had passed for good. He asked which direction the river was, it took me several seconds to think about where on Helion we were before directing us west, up the narrow streets and through a series of narrow back-alleys until we came to a dense crossroad.

Riddick stopped at the edge of an archway holding out his hand, his flat palm facing us to holt us. He removed his goggles from his eyes and rested them on his forehead before edging slowly into the middle of the crossroad slowly then jolted quickly across the gap raising a firm hand up ordering us not to move. I held Lajjun by the waist pulling her in closer to me with Ziza situated safely in the middle of our bodies as the sound of footsteps and gurgling crept closer and closer to the middle of the crossroad.

I peered around the archway to see a very strange looking creature not to be rude but it looked like a burns victim, what was visible of its face was scarred, its ears, nose and mouth looked like they'd been painfully and surgically removed. The creatures eye remained in there sockets but a large lens that radiated blue-orange light was placed on its face. As the creature walked forwards it was revealed that a small remote was wired into the back of its head and holding the remote sheepishly watching the screen was a thin Necromonger soldier carefully protected by three other Necromonger's; at the back of the search group was the largest man I had ever seen, he stood taller than six-foot with well toned muscles wrapped around his frame, in fact, he made Riddick look like a toothpick in comparison. In between the man's shoulder-blades was a handle of a nicely carved blade.

The group pass unknowing of our presence, I foolishly released a loud sigh of relief, the creature turned sharply to glance back at the archway were we hid. I usher my family to move to the other side of the alleyway to avoid its gave but the creature spotted me and alerted the Necromonger's. Lajjun whispered my name in a panic.

"Don't follow me," I whispered to them gently, "I love you." I slipped my father's silver ring off my finger and placed it into Ziza's hands before side stepping out into the middle of the crossroad, waved my robe like a superhero and yelled deliberately before spiriting off in the opposite direction, the four Necromonger's turned and perused me.

I could hear the echoes of footsteps coming after me as I ran aimlessly through the streets before entering a courtyard and met a dead-end, I pulled both desperately and aggressively on the steal gate hoping to open it but the gate remained locked. I looked around frantically for a way out but the only thing I could see a fire exit ladder leading up to the second floor a crumpled building. My fingers bled as they tightly wrapped around the rusty ladder as I pulled my body weight up a meter before climbing onto the second floor of the building.

I hid behind a large piece of fallen stone, pressing my back hard against it and forcing myself to breath quietly as the harsh sound of grunting and shuffling filled the silent air, heavy steps erupted from behind me as the Necromonger swings onto the second floor probably with his large axe firmly held in his hands as he scanned the area for me. The heavy steps got fazed out as I held my religious necklace that was still around my neck in my hands. _Guardian Angel, watch over those whose names you can read in my heart. Guard over them with every care and make their way easy and their labours fruitful. Amen._

The footsteps increasingly got loud as the Necromonger edged closer to me, I turned out from my hiding place with a fire blazing in my chest, the Necromonger stared at me with a stern face, his eyes a light shade of gray matching his horrid pale skin with black rings circled his eyes.

"There will be an afterlife for me. Will there be for you?" I ask bracing myself for a hit.

The Necromonger narrowed his eyes at me before quickly swinging his axe forward facing the sharp end, I didn't have time to more or even to react. I placed my hand over the place unaware of what happened, there was no pain at all, I removed my hand and glanced down to see my hand covered in hot, red blood, a dull throbbing began inside the wound; the throbbing grows until the pain begins to overtake and I could feel myself beginning to panic. The Necromonger grinned wickedly, I was loosing blood quickly and as my vision blurred.

I hazily looked up at the Necromonger who – still smiling wickedly – kicked my stomach with all his might knocking me across the small gap, over the balcony allowing my body to be weightless. I landed on the floor with a thud, my limbs laying a mess on the floor as my body lost all motion. Despite the flames licking the sky, the stars shone brightly. _I hope Riddick can save them. _I find it humorous that the last thing to flood my mind was Riddick, although he may not have faith, I do.

The yells and gunfire, the sound of peoples pain started sounding further and further away as my vision started closing in, relief flooded my body, I gave in to my body's needs, the darkness overtook peacefully.


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: This chapter is rather long so I will apologise for that now but please still read it and make sure you review with whether or not you enjoy/like it. Your reviews would be really helpful in guiding me with what I can improve on. Thank you – VA.16.**

Chapter Three.

_*Riddick's POV*_

Secretly it came as no shock to the residents that Helion Prime lost the battle with the Necromonger's. The several hundred survivors – including myself – were rounded up from hiding places on the streets and escorted into the Conquest statue. I followed silently, my goggles neatly placed over my eyes allowing me to see in the lightened conditions.

The high ceiling of the room was carved with ancient languages I couldn't read, the long walls leaned unevenly into the room, the Necromonger's intentions of making this room interesting has failed greatly as the sudden twists and dips made the rooms interior uncomfortable for the eye. The survivors stood scattered throughout the room on different step heights but all placed around this stage with curiosity welling-up as we wondered who was going to be stood there. I stood furthest from the stage and closest to the edge of the room with my back to stationary Necromonger soldiers. Small chatter echoed around the room as people wondered what was their fate. Parents shielded their children with themselves. Lajjun and Ziza are safe, I took them to the edge of the river – which was not far from Imam's body – and watched the bank as they crossed. Lajjun insisted I kept the animal tooth necklace Imam used to wear; I didn't argue with her, the tooth rested lightly against my chest at the bottom of my breast bone. It is now a symbol and reminder of a good man that I was proud to call a friend.

The door of the room swung open and then is filled with the muscular body of a average sized man, he wore silvery-grey armour, a long cape was draped from his shoulders with a helmet that harboured the same familiar faces on either side and back of his head. I'm sure it symbolises something in their bullshit religion but at this particular moment, I couldn't give two shits, my eyes were glued on the large fucker wearing similar armour and wielding a metal axe with a blade between his shoulder-blades, the same soulless fucker that killed Imam.

The man with four faces walked proudly to the centre of the room and took his place on the centre stage. A scrawny little man wearing a silvery-grey uniform, not armour – there was nothing to protect him from attack – followed ten large paces behind the leader and was still walking down the steps between two crowds when he spoke loud and clear.

"In this verse, life is antagonistic to the natural state. Here humans in all their various races are a spontaneous outbreak. An unguided mistake. Our purpose is to correct that mistake... because there is another verse. A verse where life is welcomed and cherished. A ravishing ever-new place called Underverse... but the road to that verse crosses over the threshold." the man spoke with a smug smirk as he scanned the crowd.

"THRESHOLD...TAKE US TO THE THRESHOLD!" the soldier's placed around and throughout the crowd erupted into loud shouts.

_This is bullshit, _I hissed aggressively in my head.

"It is this verse that must be cleansed of life so Underverse can populate." the man continued on.

Quiet chatter broke out amongst small factions of the people.

"Look around you." the man stood centre stage spoke for the firsts time, his voice was surprisingly deeper than I could have predicted based on his appearance. "Every Necromonger in his hall, their allegiance swept away your planets defences in just one night, they all were once like you, fought as weakly as you. Every Necromonger that lives today is a convert."

The room exploded with hateful yells and whispers from the crowd.

"There will be no conversion!" One women yelled.

"We all began as something else!" The scrawny man yelled above the crowd, "It was hard for me to accept as well when I first heard these words but I changed, I let them take away my pain –"

"– You betrayed your faith!" A male crowd-member snapped.

"Just as you will change." The man continued on as if he was not interrupted, "When you realise that the threshold to the Underverse will be crossed only by those who have embraced the Necromonger faith. For those of you that will, right now, drop to your knees and ask to be purified."

"We will not renounce our faith!" The same dark-skinned man boomed from the crowd raising his heavily clothed arms high to signify to the crowd.

"NO ONE HERE WILL DO AS YOU ASK!" A different man yelled viciously as he walked through the crowd to the isle, "This is a world of many people, many faiths and religions; we simply cannot and will not be converted."

As the man spoke with courage, the Necromonger on the centre stage stepped down to be at the same level as the speaker. The two men walked towards each other, as they did, the Necromonger raised his hand to a median height to his waist before plunging it into the crowd-member's stomach. The Necromonger's hand shuffles between being solid and air-like, similar to Aereon.

"Then I will take your soul." the Necromonger hissed before moving his ghostly transparent hand through the man ripping away a clear figure that struggled to hold on. The crowd reacted in a wave of gasps and wails as the man's soul moaned before vanishing. The man's now soulless body gasped for air before collapsing to the floor beside the stage.

"Join him. Or join me." The Necromonger leader spoke clearly to the crowd and sure enough, the crowd shuffled slightly then fell to its knees. All but me.

A muscular man wearing heavy armour approached me with a confident strut. He wore a helmet that hid his entire face except the eyes. The males eyes were grey and circled with dark-skin.

"This is your one chance. Take the Lord Marshal's offer and bow." the males thick, musty voice advised.

I tilted my head to the side mockingly, "I bow to no man." I growl.

The man beneath the helmet scoffed before removing the metal armour protecting his face to reveal a strange haircut – shaved at the sides leaving an tall island of hair running from the front to the back with braids reaching down to the lower parts of his back. He looked fucking ridiculous and with his skin was white with patches of dark spots all I wanted to suggest was a decent night sleep.

"He is not a man." The man replied wittingly. "He is the holy half dead who has seen the Underverse."

_You're really starting to piss me off with the whole Underverse thing._ A fearsome voice bellowed inside my brain, I shifted my body round to measure up to him properly. He was several inches taller than me.

I try to fight back the smirk creeping across my face as my muscles twitched, "Look I'm not with everyone here." I say, the man's eyebrows almost disappeared into his hair line as he tilted his head to the side, "But, I will take a piece of him." I continue on whilst pointing at the large fucker holding an axe with a knife neatly inserted in the middle of his shoulders, just waiting to be used.

"A piece you will have." The male challenged. His armour was tattered and scratched.

He climbed the steps idly holding the axe firmly in his hands. Confidence oozed from his body as he squared up to me a meter away before swinging his axe, his arm fully extended increasing the range of damage. I darted backward throwing away my robe as the axe gazed the air centimetres from the upper region my chest. The momentum of the axe forced his body sideways giving me room and time to yank free the blade from his shoulders. I ducked allowing the axe to travel over my head before standing and driving the axe idly between his fourth and fifth ribs, his body jerked as I removed the blade and re-entered the blade into his body with more force and less accuracy. My last thrust of the blade into his body was the killer, again through the fourth and fifth ribs but instead of entering at the side, I entered the blade through the front piercing his heart. His groans cut off abruptly, his body became limp and tumbled backwards down the stone steps. Crowd-member's moved themselves quickly before getting flattened by the heavy body.

The pale man beside me looked more than displeased as I turned away to retrieve my coat from the floor. The sound of shuffling feet behind me got louder as the crowd regrouped and the Necromonger guards jerked unknowing what to do or say.

"Stop him." The loud voice of their leader said.

The shuffles toward me continued, I turned to watch the man removed the blade from his dead Necromonger guards chest and approach me.

"He was one of my best." The leader – Lord Marshall – sighed but no emotion was injected into his voice.

I raised my eyebrow and replied sarcastically: "If you say so."

Lord Marshal raised his arm holding the blade tightly in his hand, he then released his fingers from around the handle and asked me what I thought of it. My face hardened with overwhelming confusion, I took the blade – making the scrawny man behind him tense along with the man beside me – and flicked it in and out of my fingers, around the palm and back of my hand, each time it twiddled a little more than I wanted it too on the back-end.

"It's half a gram heavy on the back-end." I replied truthfully holding it by the handle to return it to the Marshal.

He shook his head pleasantly, "In our faith. You keep what you kill." he said gripping my hand and forcing my fingers to grip around the blade handle. As he squeezed my hand, my fingers tensed underneath. _You keep what you kill. _Finally; a religion I might be able to get on board with.

As my hand tensed the Marshal's eyes shifted uneasily towards my clenched fingers, his eyes turned curious as he studied my grip before glancing up at me.

"Are you familiar to me?" he asks, "Have we already met on some distant field?"

I released a small chuckle, "You'd think I would remember." I reply snidely as my body shook from being tense for so long. I snatched my hand away from his grip, the blade handle still entwined in my fingers.

"You think I would too." the Lord Marshal replied smirking triumphantly. "Take him before the Quasi-Dead."

My body tenses as a large group of Necromonger soldiers surround me. Each of them holding large guns, their faces stern and eyes unfeeling as their helmets protected their heads. The spiky haired guy stood in front of me with his chest puffed out proudly. I was gravely out numbered and I certainly wasn't stupid when it came to a fight. This was one I wouldn't come out on top.

"Perhaps, the breeder would do it. If someone asked him." a loud feminine voice said highly breaking into the circle surrounding me with ease. She touches the spiky haired males arm tenderly, he recoiled from her familiar touch. Lovers maybe, possibly even more. Husband and wife.

The women was beautiful, no doubt about that. Her skin was the same colour as dark chocolate with shiny hair to match, her round eyes were set firmly into her skull radiating confidence. She was petite and slender with no muscle making up for her lack of meat. Her hair was tied up neatly with gold strips decorating her ponytail, but it wasn't her hair, nor her attractive looks that strikes me about her. It was the razor sharp feature's her face carries, high cheekbones, thin lips and a strong jawbone that was almost masculine; her eyes were circled with thick black make-up several shades darker than her skin tone. I inhaled deeply drawing in her sweet scent as she smiled seductively.

"It is a rare offer," she cooed circling me slowly, her gazes never quivering, "A visit to inside Necropolis."

She raised her perfectly sculptured eyebrows at me mirroring my expression. The man behind her watched with hawk-like eyes as his lover glided elegantly in front of me taking my hand in her, interlocking our fingers.

"I will show you the way." she smiled, still holding my hand, she turned me around walking in front of me out of the hall and into a series of wide open corridors. The group of guards that surrounded me to begin with followed silently behind us.

The scrawny man followed along several paces behind us as we entered through the grand entrance into another interior of a battle ship. However the inside of this ship was covered in large statues holding the roof us above our heads, the balcony of the second floor was covered in miniature decorations. Large pillars holding the second floor up created walkways beneath. In front of us, a large silver throne was situated proudly, four steps of pure silver metal led up to the chair, around it was a arch decorated with spikes. The entire room was lit with luminous blue light that ran in the ceilings, the edges of the floor and balcony.

The roof was incredibly high. So high in fact the top section of the room was a ship bunker for the Necromonger ships that were not damaged during the battle. I removed my goggles to study the room more accurately with the most un-ignorable gut instinct of hiding my amazement from the guards and the women who has not presented herself with a name.

The echoing sound of the heavy doors closing caught my attention forcing my body to turn sharply to stare back at the door catching the gaze of the spiky haired man. The women touched my face with her soft hands, I was amazed by her lack of fear. I did not fight her touch as she turned my head away from the male to face her properly. Our faces now more than five inches from each other. She stared at me intently before smirking.

"Beautiful eyes." she commented, I could feel her warm breath on my face. "Come." she said removing her lingering fingers from my face and strutting forwards, "The last six Lord Marshal's have called this home." she informed me.

I looked around pretending to give a shit.

"Magnificent isn't it?" she asks.

I shrug, "I would have gone a different way."

The scrawny man behind me scoffs, "Wouldn't we all."

We walk pasted a narrow archway like a pack of wolves, I turned my attention to the bodies hanging limply connected to some sort of machine. Their wrist bound above them, their feet kept securely in place with two thick needles neatly inserted into the sides of their necks. A Necromonger man, not a soldiers judging by the clothing, he wore simply robes with a skeleton helmet that only covered the the middle section of his head, his clothing was almost identical to the scrawny male walking along behind me. His eyes were lifeless and his skin a sickly pale.

"Convents." The scrawny man identified the people, "They're receiving the make of the Necromonger. They learn how one pain can lessen another."

Well that explains the hideous scars on either side of every Necromonger's neck here.

Still gripping my arm, the women led my to a set of sealed shut doors. Two men from the group behind us move around the sides to open the heavy metal doors for us. She leads me inside the darkly lit room which was lucky considering I had not replaced my goggles onto my eyes and now I was thankful that I hadn't.

The room was hideous, the thick smell of passed rotting flesh wafted into my nose making my stomach knot. Five archways were spread out neatly around a small podium then was placed in the middle of the room. A second floor balcony was placed high above the pit allowing the Lord Marshal, the spiky haired man and other Necromonger's to watched. Sections around the room had carved metal screens allowing other spectators to watch from the outside.

I let the women guide me onto the podium, unaware of what was to happen next. She circled my elegantly before smiling smugly and turning her back to me, her golden dress moved perfectly unison with her ribcage and hips.

"The more you resist them." She said slyly, "The greater the damage will be." and then she left with the metal doors of the entrance sealed shut behind her. Locking inside the foul smelling room.

_Little bitch, _my frustrated inner voice snarled angrily.

"_A new one_." a mysterious voice whispered. I removed the knife from my waistband and gripped it tightly as I searched the room for the source of the whisper.

"_You've brought us a new one." _the voice whispered happily. The clunking of mechanics followed the voice swiftly, a fluorescent purple light lit up beneath me ripping the blade from my hand cutting the surface of my palm. The base of the podium dragged my body down in a violent and swift move. My left knee slammed into the metal base with a thud making the echoing sound of bone crunching surface into the rooms atmosphere. My muscles recoiled from the floor making my veins surfaced on the top of my skin as my body tense with pain.

The round of rolling stone echoed around me as the archways become hiding places for strange looking creatures. Half solid yet half transparent covered in a see-through linen sheet, either side of the creatures head was two goblets of what I can only guess was liquid as my body was two far forward and low for me to see. Their faces hung level with mine: two males and three females.

"_Making entry." _A male voice croaked, I tried to shift away but my arms remain stuck to the floor, the balls of my upper arms cracked themselves free of my shoulder socket causing shoots of agonising pain to run up and down my body.

"_The Riddick." _a soft female voice says.

"Progress." the Lord Marshal above on the second floor ordered into the pit.

"_Gathering fresh memories_." the same male voice instructed. Oh no. "_He protecting someone called Elisha."_

Sharp images pierce my skull. Her frizzy curls, pale blemished skin. Her crooked smile but where there is light, darkness with always find a way to try stump it out. Crematoria, tall makeshift buildings of metal cells, disease and hungry perverts.

"_Now we find thoughts of an Elemental." _a different, more hard voiced female informed the Lord Marshal and other spectators.

Aereon's voice rattled inside my head; "The one race, that could stop the flood of Necromonger's..."

"Furyan's" Imam's voice finished.

"_Furyan's." _the male said loud and clear. The rooms muttering silenced and the calm breaths of the Lord Marshal quickened as his body tensed.

"Where does he come from?!" Lord Marshal ordered into the pit.

No reply from the Quasi-Dead.

"Who are his people!?" The Lord Marshal bellowed another request.

Again, no reply from the Quasi-Dead.

"ARE THERE ANY OTHERS!" The Marshal almost screamed, his voice oozing with anger mixed with insane worry.

The Quasi-Dead surrounding me moan invitingly as they know there is another.

"_A female_." the male reveals.

"Where?" the Lord Marshal demands.

"_We find energy." _the man reply simply. "_Furyan energy. They are Furyan!"_

"Where is the female!?" the Lord Marshal orders to know.

The bodies of the Quasi-Dead begin to spasm awkwardly, their chests rising high enough for the backs to break because their bodies bend in unnatural positions. The black liquid spits over the goblets, splattering across the flat stone floor.

"_Furyan survivors!" _ the male yells, _"KILL THE FURYAN! KILL THE FURY –"_

The sentences of the Quasi-Dead were cut short as the glass goblets shatter sending sharp splinters of glass directly at my face, I arch my head downward to protect my face as glass flies toward my hunched over body. I look up to see the Lord Marshal staring intently at me. His eyes filled with blazing hatred.

"Kill the Riddick." he ordered before turning his back and disappearing back into the Necropolis.

The fluorescent purple light disappeared from beneath me, as I stood my arms reconnected themselves into my shoulder sockets. Three Necromonger guards stood on the ledge of the second balcony looking down on me, as the first one leap to the floor, I snatched my knife form the podium and drove it into his stomach, I threw him over my shoulder gripping his anti-gravity gun and aimed successfully at the two guards up on the ledge. The Quasi-Dead bed were slowly being concealed back into their archways. I threw myself onto the back of one of the Quasi-Dead ripping tightly to the edge. I fired the gun at the spiky haired man who ran into the room acting like the hero followed by a group of Necromonger soldiers, as the beam hit the man's chest he flew backwards into the group knocking them down like pins. As the shell rotated backwards to allow me to stand up vertically behind it.

"Find him!" The Lord Marshal ordered.

I slip out through the back of the Quasi-Dead pit, the Necromonger's in a panic are not very observant so I manage to slip through the crowd unnoticed. I ran like a Hell Hound down the destroyed streets of Helion Prime, fire blazed as crumpled bodies lay to waste.

From the smoke behind me I hear the rumbles of a hidden drop-ship. As the ship hovers overhead I am prepared for the dropping of several Necromonger ships but instead the sound of explosion rattles the air as three anonymous missiles were fired into the bottom of the Necromonger ship. The heavy flying object plummeted to the ground nose first and trailed after me quickly, my feet stumbled beneath my with exhaustion, I glanced backwards which was the worst thing I could have possibly down as I tripped over my own to feet and rolled across the floor as the ship tipped over me, being airborne for several seconds narrowly missing the top of my head.

I stood up and composed myself whilst watching the burning and all its glory of the ship being engulfed in yellow and orange flames. From the streets around me, five hooded figures, three carrying heavy weaponry emerged to stand in a neat triangle of rank behind me.

Toombs, of course, was at the top.

"Let me guess." I say clearly over the noise of the flames licking the air, "A five man crew this time."

"A couple of things you could have gone better." Toombs croaky high-pitched voice says. "First: trash the locator beacon inside my ship."

That was deliberate.

"And second: the more important part. Dust my dick when you get the chance." Toombs laughed thinking he was funny, "Any questions?"

I turn sharply on my heals to face the Mercenaries. "What took you so long?" I ask holding my hands up to indicate to my wrists with a small smile creeping across my face.

Toombs gestured to the women to his left, she lowered her hood to reveal her rather masculine jawline. She stepped forward removing the heavy cuffs from her belt. Her face betrayed no emotion as she clipped the cuffs around my wrists. She certainly was not afraid of me, but if she was, she was very very well trained at hiding it.

As the girl gripped the middle of my handcuffs and lead me to the ship the only thing I could think of was _her_. How could I have been so stupid? So reckless? Why did I not get out of there when I had the chance. If I had just settled my irresponsible rage after I found Imam they would not be trying to kill her, they wouldn't even know she was alive or that she even existed, they wouldn't know about me. Furyan; this was our curse but the thing that binds us together.

My concentration was annoyingly broken by the arrival at the metal ship. It was certainly an uprate from the crappy hunk of metal Toombs called his last ship. I was seated into a leant back chair where my hands were hooked away from my body and cuffed in that position. I was then connected carefully onto a Cryosleep machine, a needle was neatly inserted into the inner elbow of my right arm.

The ship was in the air silently flying trying to avoid detection from the Necromonger battle ships that were still no doubt searching the crumbled planet for survivors, other people to convert. Once off world, Toombs gripped the metal beam above his head to keep himself steady as he smoked happily.

"So, where do you drop your Merc killin' ass?" Toombs asked. "Who is going to pay the most for you now?"

_I must get to Crematoria. That's were she is. I have to get there. _I daren't say these words for more than the obvious list.

"Butcher Bay?" asks Toombs.

I chuckle, "They keep a cell open for me. Y'know, just in case I drop in. Plus the protein waffles aren't bad."

Toombs turns to his crew. "Maybe a health club for waffle eating pussy's isn't punishment enough. We probably should up our game."

The girl next to the Asian pilot sighs, "What the hell is he thinking now," she mutters.

"He is thinking a triple-max prison. A no daylight slam only three of them left in the system, two aren't even worth really calling a prison. Leaving just one: Crematoria." I inform the young women. "That is what you had in mind, right Toombs?"

"How come he knows were we are going but we don't?" the man to Toombs right sneers.

"Dope it out." Toombs orders the pilot.

"Oh. I hate this run." the pilot replies with a surprisingly deep voice.

I chuckle, loud enough for it to be far passed ballsy for a man handcuffed to a wall. "I'm not sure about this new crew of your Toombs. They seem a bit chicken shitty, it is always a mistake to tell the new crew what happened to the old crew."

Toombs returned my chuckle and approached me slowly, he positions his face to the side of mine, close enough for the hot smoke escaping his mouth to be irritating but not close enough for me to head-butt him. Shame.

"Y'know," he tuts, "You're meant to be some slick, shit killer. Now look at you. Chained up like a dog at the back of the bus."

My lips clenched together with anger as Toombs words burn into my skull. I leaned back and made myself comfortable as the pilot set a safe plot for Crematoria before the crew hooked themselves up to Cryosleep machines and within a minute, the serum is pumped through the veins, through their heart and spread out to their brain plunging them into a deep frozen sleep. The crew were verbally silent whereas the ships interior rattled gently with the sound of heavy breathing, gentle snores and the occasion mumble from Toombs, the female to his right grinds her teeth sexily. The crew pass the time by dreaming of peaceful places where they can be anything they truly wish.

All except me.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter Four.

_*Elisha's POV*_

**IGNEON SYSTEM; PLANET CREMATORIA.**

I held my breath whilst squeezing my eyes shut as I sat still on a rusting stool with Sybil standing hunch backed behind me, trimming. The endless strands of dead-ends fell to the floor in dull, brown rings. When she had finished, she placed down the stiff, rusting scissors and gently pulled my hair away from my face to plait it neatly and tied off the end with a piece of string. I admired how clam, skilful and focused she is.

I stare blankly at the front of the three-by-five meter barred cell, two long tattered blankets have been clipped and/or tied onto the bars to keep the inside of the cell private. Well, as private as a cell can possibly be inside a triple-max slam where the inmates – all dangerous – are free to wonder around twenty-three hours of the day without any guard supervision.

The walls beside and behind me were created by sharp jagged rocks, a gentle glow projected shadows across the floor and highlighted the dangerous edges. Above the sound of hot air hiding and the occasional creaking of metal stairs as inmates began to wake to the heat, the comforting sound of gently snoring rattled the air; deep sleep was a necessity to the human survival and it is now something I can only salvage on the darkest of days so I spend the nights in and out of gentle naps whilst running my rough, worn-down fingers through the silk-like silver hair of the young child who sleeps soundly tucked into my muscular arms – he now sleeps alone due to the timing of my haircut – with his body laid across mine with his head tucked into the nape of my neck with his cheek resting on the section of my chest above my heart. I cradled him gently as he is the smallest and most fragile human within these prison walls. This was not down to the fact he was a child but because he is considerably underweight due to the lack of minerals he recieves in his diet but also because, he is dying.

Cancer, I presume but with no trained doctors and the guards not giving two shits, I cannot find any ways to help him, all I can do now is make sure he eats well and then, just do the stomach twisting job of waiting for him to pass on.

As he slept, his small snores echo around the dense rooms interior before funnelling out through the thin makeshift wall and out into the open space beyond the room to mix with the snores of the still sleeping inmates. The sleeping child is named Hans; the women stood behind me plaiting my hair, Sybil, is his mother. I don't have any family here, as can be expected, but Sybil I have known my entire life, she helped deliver me the night my mother went into labour. The night my mother died but Sybil took me under her wing and raised me as she would her own. As she would with Hans.

Unfortunately, like myself, Hans is bounded to this hell until the day we die or until we can think of some ingenious plan to escape; which has only ever been achieved once before by a extraordinary young boy I used to know.

"Elisha?" A soft yet stern voice asks through the makeshift wall, the brown curtain that acted as a door was pulled back revealing a middle aged women called Dakota. She was very tall, maybe five-foot-six with a thin frame, her willowy limbs lacked muscle but she suited it. Her short brown hair was cut short like a boy and pushed back from her face showing off her sharply featured face with narrow blue eyes.

"Morning Sybil," Dakota whispers being extra careful not to wake Hans beside the entrance. "Harrison is requesting your presence at the Glade. Something about a new inmate working."

I roll my eyes, "Yeah okay." I thank Sybil, kiss Hans forehead and leave with Dakota.

Sweat gathers aggressively on my chest, forehead and armpits, the temperature was easily in its hundreds and I wore snug fitting trousers with various rips in the legs and a dark green tank top. Dakota and I scurried down two metal stairs to the ground floor covered with rocks which have fallen from the ceiling, dry sand and creators that released very hot vapour rising violently. We walked passed four men already working in the Pit, we entered a small corridor concealed in the right hand corner. Hidden in the back right hand corner passed three cells was a place the inmates called the Glade, it was a room the size of a average classroom with a hole a meter deep, the purpose was for gambling. Next to the Glade down another concealed corridor was a small equipment room which was nothing more than two abandoned cells with the barred wall dividing them was missing merging it into one to house harnesses, rope, goggle, safety pads, welding torch's and other important equipment need to keep the rusting metal frame that made up the stairs of the slam from crumbling.

Inside the cell, Harrison stood against the back wall surrounded by six other inmates giving them a short list of jobs each for today's. I gave Harrison a friendly nod as he notices us at the back of the group.

"– you lot who know your jobs, off you go." Harrison orders, five out of the six inmates grab the gear they need and leave the room, Dakota and I move aside into a corner to the inmates can slip passed us without pushing. Harrison then informs Dakota she is not needed to stay with me and suggests she grabs the gear needed and I would be joining her shortly.

After Dakota collects the equipment she leaves giving me a worried glance but I gave her a reassuring smile in return. Harrison is not in anyway a harm to me, he has pulled me out of plenty of fights because he was afraid I might go to far. Harrison is far too cleaver as well to get into any fights at his age of fifty-five.

"Elisha." Harrison smiles faintly before gesturing to the figure hidden in the darkly lit corner of the call, "This is Wyclef."

The man removed himself from the dark corner, not that it was a problem for me, I could see him perfectly fine in the dark. He was very well build, no fat was noticeable just solid looking muscle with tanned skin over-top, his hair was buzz-cut short, his eyes were narrow indicating mixed heritage with a crooked nose – probably broken – and he wore long, non-fitted trousers with a loose fitting tank top similar to mine except his was camouflaged.

"Wyclef this is Elisha, she is going t –"

"– what the hell is up with your eyes?" Wyclef interrupted sneering.

I raised my eyebrows out of sheer habit. I wasn't really a shock Wyclef was curious about my eyes, despite how his voice came across. I received that question a lot when I was growing up and especially from new inmates. My eyes were not coloured with a pupil like the other people here, my eyes were pale, fluorescent purple with no pupil central of my eyes; I do not see in colour, instead I see in purple. The darker the lighting in a room, the sharper the image I can see is but the the brighter a room is, the brighter the image becomes and I am unable to see it. Effectively, my vision only allows me to see in the dark which is lucky as I am inside a underground prison which is dimly lit all the time.

Harrison coughed awkwardly to regain our attention, "As I was saying: Elisha, I would like you to keep an eye on Wyclef, just for today." He does not ask me, he tells me sternly.

My heart speeds up as Wyclef's jaw drops open almost hitting the floor in disbelief that a teenage, especially one as small as me, will be in charge of a grown adult but I do not get angry at Harrison, it isn't his fault, no doubt the orders were passed down from Ceryll or as he prefers to be called 'The Guv'. I would very much love to inform you how it came to be he is the Slam Boss but he has been incarcerated longer than I have been alive and the question never aroused curiosity in me.

I sighed deeply before nodding, "Right," I say bluntly, "What jobs has he got?" I ask.

Harrison tapped his foot against the stone ground as his eyes glazed over, "Something simple." He mumbles to himself, "Rubbish duty." Harrison then declares after three minutes of careful thinking.

I nod, simple enough. "Grab the litter picker." I tell Wyclef guesting to the piece of equipment that had a handle on one end with a claw on the other connected by a long pole. He obeys. "And the bin-bag." I said, a little nicer then before, guesting to the basket with backpack straps. Wyclef obeys again.

We walked passed the Glade and walked down the corridor to enter the Pit. I jumped off the small ledge to land on the stone floor with various craters, tin cans and pieces of scrap. Wyclef followed me juggling the equipment he had gathered, I turned to face him as he asks that he is doing because Rubbish Duty was far to vague.

"Your job is to clean up the slam, starting here, the sweeping through first, then second and so on." I say, "Couldn't be similar. Once you've finished, the conveyor belt over there" – gesture to the steadily moving contraption – "And the rubbish will be taken to the cleaning guards."

Wyclef nodded, "What do you do?" he asks.

"Maintenance," I smile jerking my thumb towards Dakota who is securely clipping the harness to a rope that looped through a small grapple wheel on the roof of the slam and then trailed back to the floor. "Last thing we want is the slam collapsing." I joke. Wyclef huffs and begins to pick up small shards of metal, he muttered harsh words under his breath such as 'stupid little cow'.

I turned sharply once I'd climbed back onto the ledge, "Don't be sour. Every newbie has to do rubbish duty,"

Wyclef's body shuddered at the word 'newbie' declaring this was not his first time being incarcerated, I ignore his cold gaze and walked over to Dakota who smiled devilishly before handing me a welding torch and goggles.

"Ready?" She asks as I slip the dry goggles over my eyes and hooked myself into the harness gripping the cold welding torch.

"Let's get this over with." I say bluntly as Dakota begins to turn a large wheel that wound the rope in hoisting me up into the air. Four of us hang from the ceiling in total, each of us with a section of the metal structure to keep intact. I remove my silver zippo lighter from my back pocket and flick the flame to life before holding it in front of the gas releasing nozzle.

The heat gradually rises throughout the passing time. Irritating sweat breaks out uncontrollably and violently on my face, I foolishly rubbed my bare forearm and hand across my face with good intentions of trying to release my body from the stickiness without thinking about the thick grease that was clustered on the surface of my skin.

The roaring flame melts the weak metal gradually allowing me to reposition it slightly and re-weld it back into place. I am unaware of the time but I know when it is breakfast time when Dakota calls up from the ground floor below to inform me and luckily I was finished because if not I would still be dangling from the ceiling like a spider whilst Dakota collected her tin and ate happily whilst I continued to work.

I turned off the welding torch and dropped it into the capable hands of Dakota, as my stomach rumbled angrily I decided to follow my usual routine not to wait for Dakota to lower me to safety. I undid the bolt on the clip connecting my harness to the rope, once unbolted I turned the clip onto its side an guided out through the loop releasing myself.

A masculine gasp erupted from the ground as I was weightless for several seconds, my body was already arched backwards, my legs followed the motion swiftly. My legs shook on impact with the floor radiating throughout my entire body but I didn't stumble. Dakota swore at me.

I removed the harness and returned it along with the goggles and welding gun before returning to the Pit to follow the line forming through the thin corridor that lead to the dinner hall, which like the rest of the facility, wasn't worth having, no one socialized here, instead we retrieve our food and adventure off too wherever they wish to eat, whether it be alone or in the company of others.

Dakota was lined up three people in front of me. The man distributing the food was a middle aged man named Pharrell, his sandy blonde hair matched his gently tanned bronze skin, his large blue eyes were more than captivating and with a row of perfectly straight teeth, I wonder how he ended up in a place like this. His sentence is life, like everyone else here but he has only been incarcerated two years, maybe less.

Pharrell shook the can beside his ear, "Beans," he revealed to the man in front of Dakota. He took the can with gratitude and wondered off.

Dakota stepped forward to smile brightly at him. Like before, he shook the can beside his ear, "Carrots and peas." he reveals to her. She cocks an eyebrow at him before opening the can to reveal carrots and peas, she gasps with amazement, the man behind her coughs loudly, she jerks before apologising and moving aside.

Three more people where given food before I was positioned at the front of the line, Pharrell flashes me a rather charming smile before picking out a can from one of the two boxes at his feet, he shakes it intently.

"Soup." he reveals.

I smile brightly as he hands me the can, our fingers brush against each other lightly sending an electric charge up my arm. He shakes two more cans beside his ears before handing them to me. One for Hans; one for Sybil.

"Some kind of fruit and beans with sausages." he tells me. I thank him and exit the dinner to give Sybil and Hans their breakfast clutching mine as I return to the Pit.

"Are you going to the Glade?" Dakota asks me through a mouthful of food.

I nod following her lead, Ceryll was already in the hole smiling cunningly as I enter. He beckons me forward and asks if I am in the betting pool, I nod without hesitation before retreating back to Dakota who engulfed her food quickly.

"I cannot believe it! You're Scarlett Harlot." a voice piped up from beside me. Dakota's eyes narrowed angrily as she grips the man collar – who turns out to be Wyclef – and slammed him against the metal bars of a cell forcefully enough to move the bars slightly. Wyclef looked taken back from the response, beans still in hand and non spilt, Dakota has the man pinned up by the throat using her forearm, veins began to reveal themselves on Wyclef's forehead as the strong arm slowly restricted his airways.

"Listening to me," Dakota snarled viciously, "I know ten ways to kill someone with a spoon, would you like to find out one?"

I sighed heavily wiping my brow. Scarlett Harlot was Dakota's criminal name, she was an interesting killer no doubt about it. When she was free she worked as a Harlot – a prostitute – and seduced rich men, once back at their home or a hotel room, she would kiss them, her lips laced with position that was fast acting and very effectively in killing the brain cells making the victim forget simple action, such as breathing. Dakota waited for her victims to die before taking whatever they had on them: wallets, jewellery, watches. Anything that could fetch a fine piece.

Wyclef apologised multiple times before Dakota released him allowing his body to flop to the floor like a lead-weight to his knees, clutching his throat gasping for precious air. We ignored him and gripped her elbow before shoving out way to the front at the edge of the hole to watch Ceryll gamble away his breakfast for what looked like a box of chocolates.

He won.

"Elisha," he gleamed eyeing up my can of unopened food. "I bet you...your can of food."

I raise a brow, "Okay," I say jumping into the hole opposite him, "But if I win, I get your can of food."

"Deal." he replies wickedly holding out his hand, I shook it gripping it tightly making him wince.

I chuckle slightly. "You're on old man." the crowd gasp in mock surprise. Trash talk was never my strong point and luckily Ceryll doesn't respond.

Inside a chipped metal cup between us was three regular dice. The idea of the game was to roll a 4-5-6 to automatically win. The second highest you can roll is called a Trips: the rolling of three identical numbers – the higher, the better. And the worst roll is called a Point: the rolling of a pair and another number which establishes the singleton as a point. A lower point beats a high point so 1-1-3 is better than 6-6-2.

"Ladies first," Ceryll smiles offering me the cup containing the three dices." Two rolls each."

I declined his offer, "Age before beauty," I tease whilst insisting he goes first for reason I cannot fathom. Ceryll covers the top of the cup with his rough palm, shook the cup violently in all directions before angling the cup to pour out the dices.

_5-5-5. _The crowd erupts in fakes gasps. I collected the dices back up into the cup, covered the top and shook it before tipping the dice onto the uneven stone floor. _3-3-1, _I tried to hide my aggravated sigh as Ceryll smiles smugly collecting the dice and repeated the same simple gestures. His next dice numbers were _4-5-4. Ceryll_ released a triumphant sigh as my guts twist as I am aware of the loss I am facing.

"You need a miracle. Otherwise, you don't eat." Ceryll reminds me slyly.

I growl defensively and collect the dice, rattle and shake before pouring the dice from the inside of the cup. The dice rolled away from me to stop at Ceryll's feet, his face dropped and the colour washed away as he stares up at me, I lean forward to study my score that decides whether I eat breakfast today or not.

_4-5-6_

The crowd erupts in a echo if distant cheers, a sigh of relief releases itself from the back of my throat. Dakota smiles somewhat proudly at me I smile sympathetically at Ceryll before escaping the hole clutching mine and what was Ceryll's cab of unopened food.

A warm fuzzy feeling radiates from the pit of my stomach as I slyly exit the Glade as two other competitors duck into the hole, one betting cigarettes and the other bearing alcohol in a small metal flash.

I climbed two metal staircases quickly, walked passed the large wall soaked with water and hidden by a thin steam waterfall that is created by accident by a faulty pipe but it served a good purpose not to use the inmate showers.

Sybil sat quiet as a door-mouse outside of the cell in a wooden rocking chair, sewing tattered clothing back together. Despite not turning her head to acknowledge me, her ears twitched like a cats would as they reacted to the gently noise of my feet crushed small granules of rock. I removed the can originally belonging to Ceryll from underneath my arm and handed it to her. She turned her head slowly and took it from me gently, her crystal blue eyes never broke contact with my jade green eyes as her gentle gaze was thank you enough. Crematoria was no place for weakness, if you show begin to show any of the to show any of the signs. They will eat at you until you crack permanently.

I pull back the blanket from the doorway of the cell and enter in search of a spoon. Hans slept silently as all ways. I took a seat on the stool before cracking open the can and pulled the lid allowing the sweet smell of vegetable soup rise into my nostrils. I shovelled my food into my mouth hungrily, a little too quickly than deemed healthy or lady-like but I guess that is one of the marks Dakota has imprinted upon me as she lives by a very simple and rather great rule of: _if you don't eat fast, you don't eat at all. _And to make herself feel comfortable with it, she normally add, _you never know_ on the end.

When I'd finished my can the heavy rush of feet echoed through the dense air, outside the cell voices hissed with excitement. Loud bangs began to sound outside like drums as metal mugs hit the metal bars of cell walls or balcony railings. I rushed out of the door to stand outside of the cell staring at the Pit from the second floor balcony.

"What's happening?" I ask Pharrell who was stood next to me. Too close for me to feel comfortable.

"New inmate." he replies, "The usual introduction."

I rolled my eyes and leaned my forearms on the metal to study the man hanging from the thick rope with heavy cuff bounding his wrists together as he dangles a meter or so below the guard's communication-and-security office above the Pit. His skin was tanned perfectly with a muscular dome bald head, his arms are ripped with large, tense muscles as they are bound above his head. His eyes were covered with blackout goggles hiding the true identity colour of his eyes. His strong facial features appeared strangely familiar to me but no matter how hard I studied him, I couldn't pinpoint where I have seen such a magnificent bone structure and muscle definition before unless...no...it cannot be.

My body straightens up in a awkward jolt before my head snapped back to look at Sybil who was leant forward in her seat with the on her face as if she had seen a ghost and from that simple look of pure shock horror, I knew instantly who this man was.

His name escaped my lips, lower than a whisper, "Richard..."


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter Five.

_* Riddick's POV *_

The rope snags uncomfortably to stop. The sharp edges of the metal cuffs nick the rough skin of my inner wrists releasing small trickles of blood to glide down my forearms. From the guards office to the floor of the prison is a quarter of a mile.

"What the hell are you taking about? Seven-hundred-K?" Toombs aggravated voice follows the abrupt stopping off the rope.

Along the sides of the walls amongst the sharp rocks, balcony's emerged with rows of holding cells that housed inmates who removed themselves from their cells to gawk at me. The lowering off the rope restarts again lowering me to the height of ten meters above the floor of the prison. I scanned the crowd for her but I cannot see any females.

"This one, Riddick, has a nose for trouble." The guard boss says, "So, seven-hundred-thousand is good money for him."

I sighed aggressively, "Take the money Toombs." I advice from below.

The eerie atmosphere of the prison turns into a unison of bangs erupting from metal on metal as the rope lowers me gradually until once again, the machine releasing the rope stopping, snagging my arms uncomfortable cutting deeper into my wrists but this time I was no more than three meters above the ground. Dirty inmates gawk at my leather boots like predators.

_Fuck this shit, _I sneer inside my head as I pull my body up, I grazed against the rope, feet first and extending my arms out fully before releasing myself allowing my body to free fall until caught by the loop against the chain between my cuffs and catapulted myself sidewards up the rope to wrap it around my middle. I do this three times and at the same time as Toombs agrees to stay one more day to renegotiate numbers of my selling. I released myself, free falling once again until the chain between my cuffs meets the metal loop at the end of the rope, the downward force of my weight causes the metal links between my cuffs to snap into individual pieces.

With my wrists now free, my body automatically leans too far forward causing my body to swift forward, instead of fighting against it, I go with the motion and flip forward before landing swiftly on my feet without a problem with bent knees and my fingers rested on the floor balancing myself. I rubbed my sore wrists as they sting but as one problem naturalizes itself, another problem sparks up.

_* Elisha's POV *_

I bite my sharply edged teeth into the soft skin tissue of Pharrell's left arms as he holds me tightly, too tight for comfort. He yelps as blood rims my lips causing him to retract his grip on my upper arm. I shove passed random inmates as I dart through the wide-set walkways before leaping over the banister of the second floor staircase. My heart pounded harshly against my chest releasing unknown amounts of adrenaline into my bloodstream as my ankle crunches beneath my weight and the force of my fall but I push aside the pain in my joint and take a rusty metal chain from being wrapped around the bars of a random cell on the ground floor that lined the Pit.

Richard's elegant movements brought down the severely inexperienced inmate fighters with ease but as his back was turned, a sneaky man removed himself from a hideaway hole in the Pit ground. I released the chain from being neatly looped to allowing it to fall limp, I flicked the chain towards the man who was closer to me than Richard. The rusty chain wrapped tightly around the inmates neck, once secure, I yanked the chain back towards me, the chain allowed me to take full control of the man's movements. The sudden force of moment brought his feet from the floor. His body crumpled to the floor with his legs twisted in unorthodox positions with the most stomach twisting sounds of cracking bones.

With a flick movement of my wrist, the chain loosened around the inmates neck. Richard's body turned with his eyes trailing along the floor watching the chain rattle like a creature along the uneven floor as I wound it back in wrapping it around my left arm. His eyes met mine only for a second before he removed his black goggles to reveal his narrow slit eyes with purple iris and pupils identical to mine. The muscles in his face twitches but do not stretch into a smile as Ceryll from the floor above me begins to speak before he has a chance, ripping his attention from me and replacing it on the speaker.

_* Riddick's POV *_

She is beautiful but a deep masculine voice snatches my attention from her before I could steal a real good look at her. I turned my head to the right to study the cloaked man with a sweat soaked t-shirt and baggy trousers glided down a staircase – that looked at any moment was going to fall free – from the first floor.

"There are inmates and there are convicts." The man states as he reaches the bottom of the stairs and begins to strut across the gasp between us, "A convict has a certain code, he knows to show a certain respect." he says before kicking the struggling inmate on the floor in the face, "An inmate, on the other hand, pulls the pin on his fellow man. Does the guards' work for them, bring shame to the game." He finishes before standing nose-to-nose with me, "As Slam Boss, it is my job to ask you, which one you aspire to be?"

_Slam Boss, _a voice exploded inside my head. "Me?" I ask with the raising of an eyebrow, "I'm just passing through." I reply before pulling my goggles back over my eyes before walking off to explore.


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter Six.

_* Elisha's POV *_

As Ceryll gives Richard the special 'convict or inmate' speech, I returned the chain frantically to its rightful owner inside the cell but as I try to run up the staircase, Dakota tries to intercept me in the middle of the stairs but I shook her off and sprinted off up the stairs as my mind floods with elderly images. Dakota doesn't follow me which is brilliant as she knows when I want my space. I try not to acknowledge the burning pain in my muscles as they reach and pass their limitation of physical fitness. My heart feels like a caged animal, burning and determined to break free from my ribcage as my entire body shakes uncontrollably due to the levels of adrenaline in my bloodstream that was unknown.

My chest burns like I've swallowed fire; my muscles have turned to hot liquid and my body refuses to move any more. On the third floor their was a section where the prison wall is – like the rest of slam – of jagged sharp rock and the balcony area was replaced with a floor to ceiling barred wall like the sides and fronts of the housing cell. This allows people to look down without any probability of them falling over. I leant against the surprisingly cool metal bars with my forearms wedged between the bars and my forehead as I relaxed into myself allowing my muscles and my heart to slowly relax. As my breathing steadies, I turn around to head back towards my cell when a sudden unexpected striking pain struck my face as someone's large knuckles embedded themselves into the soft tissue above my eyes. A warm sensation invades the space beside my right eye as blood begins to travel the length of my face. The attacker then side-kicks me in the stomach knocking me from the barred wall to send my flying into the sharp jagged wall.

I coughed violently as the air is whipped from my lungs as I was shoved against the wall causing my body to tense unnaturally. With the back of my hand I aggressively swiped away the blood that was seeping into my eye and although my vision was impaired, I could study the figure standing over me, tattered leather boots with a camouflaged vest top with dark skin wrapped around his muscles. Wyclef. He grabs the back of my head sealing his fingers around a handful of brown hair and pulled my up from the sandy ground in a sharp and abrupt movement. I struggled against his grip but with the lack of oxygen getting to my stunned lungs, I am virtually useless at this moment.

Wyclef pins me up against the jagged rock wall using his muscular body with his hand still latched around my hair. His dark eyes locked with mine as he face was situated less than a inch from mine, his warm gentle breaths grazed across my skin smelling strongly of cigarettes. Wyclef smiles crookedly as his eyes drift up and down my body as if he is sizing me up.

"How the hell do I get eyes like that?" He asks after his eye reconnect with mine. His lips graze the skin of my cheek but he pulls back slightly to study my expression.

The muscles in my face began to twitch into any uncontrollably smug smile joined with a single chuckle, "They were a gift." I reply sarcastically.

Wyclef's eyes flashed red with anger as he releases a stern growl filled with poisonous venom. As he held onto the back of my head he had overriding control of my entire body. His actions followed in the same angry predatory noises as he swiftly slams my head down to meet his knee halfway, my nose flushed furiously with hot, red blood.

He re-pins me against the sharp wall and snarls, "Tell me you whore," he hisses wrapping a strong hand around my throat and pinching the sides. He angled his body away so I couldn't kick my numb legs at him and my scratching at his forearm made no impression on Wyclef's iron grip as his hands squeezed tighter every second that seemed to go by. I allowed myself to relax, stupid I know but I needed my body to muster any strength I had left. My knee used all of the energy I had to travel swiftly into his groin area. He bend over so I followed my movement by kneeing him in the nose knocking him backwards, releasing my hair from his clutch giving me back control of my body. I pulled my concealed knife free from its hiding place in the waistband of my trousers.

Wyclef hisses cusses beneath his breath as he viciously whipped the blood from his nose before lunging forward and swinging a strong punch which I dodged with easy as he was unbalanced. The unused force and momentum he put behind his swing made his upper-body twist enough for me to slip around his stationary body and drag my blade across the Sweet Spot.

Wyclef's body flops like a fish, face first into the sandy floor as blood seeped from the neat four inch cut to the left of his spine, the fourth lumbar down, the abdominal aorta and from this small spot you can collect two mugs of blood, something I personally do not revel in, the thought of drinking blood bring violently nausea to my stomach.

I pressed my index and middle finger against the side of Wyclef's neck to feel is he has a pulse but he didn't, serves the asshole right. I lean against the jagged wall ignoring the poking and stinging pain as stray pointy rocks graze my skin bring small lines of blood of the surface. My nose bleeds steadily but not as much as before, I pressed my forearm against the front of my nose to block the nasal passages.

From the shadows round the corner, gentle yet slightly aggravated breathes echo through the atmosphere around me. His muscles stretch and expand as he breathed in deeply and move back into place has he grinds his back teeth annoyingly.

"Don't stand in the dark like a creepy pervert," I snap, "Just come on."


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven.

_* Riddick's POV *_

My hands clench into fists of pure rage and hate as I watch her throughout the struggle like a predatory animal inspecting a wounded brethren. Knowing I should have helped her twisted my insides but I didn't, why didn't I? Maybe some sick; evil part of my wanted to see what she was truly made of and I wasn't disappointed by her deceitfulness, wilfulness and strength. I almost grinned at her effort and the willingness she had to take a knee and a fist to the face, all to trick and lead the dark coloured man into believing he was truly winning, only to be ended by a small cut to the back.

The man lays face down on the uneven floor with red blood pooling around his middle as a result of her swiping the Sweet Spot. Brilliant move and beautifully choreographed. She now leans up against the jagged wall, fatigued and breathless. I watch her in bewilderment as she breaths so steadily and relaxes almost without a problem from the pain of her wounds. The cut situated above her right eyebrow is relatively deep and releases a substantial amount of blood, her side will no doubt bruise as will the surface area of skin around her nose. My eyes glass over as I watch her studying her small movement like her gliding her short fingers through the top section of her hair drawing back the stray clumps that have fallen free during the struggle and hide her face. As she pulls back the hair revealing the relaxed muscles of her face to show her to be rather pretty: her face is slightly rounded but elfin like with large eyes; thick black eyelashes and a sweet mouth, like a pink flower.

Elisha's ears twitch like a small animal to the tiny noises erupting from my body: the gentle rattle of my controlled breaths and the annoying habit I have adopted of griping my back-teeth when I feel trapped and uncomfortable.

"Don't stand in the dark like a creepy pervert," She snaps, "Just come on out."

My stomach knots in the most unnatural way as I walk out trying to seem confident and arrogant, the person I have portrayed myself to be to anybody I have met. She doesn't stand up straight and presentable however she does remove herself from the wall and stands at the head of the body whilst I stood at the feet. The body voluntarily separates or represents the distance we feel most comfortable being near each other.

I study her as she studies me. Her muscles recoil and retract as the waves of pain curse through her body. 'The eyes are the doors to the soul' – very true, if she had normal coloured eyes I could easily tell how she feels but here she has had years of telling lies and hiding away what she truly feels because weakness means you're an easy target, it is true in here just like any other slam built. Inmates, convicts whatever you wish to call them, they feed off the weak ones fears.

I flick my eyes from her to the inch cut above the right eyebrow before pointing a finger, "You probably going to need stitches," I say like she doesn't know or figured that out for herself.

She tuts sarcastically and purses her lips, "I hate stitches." she remarks.

I smile slightly, "We all do." I reply before flicking my attention down to the man between us before reconnecting with her hurt gaze, "Where did you learn to do something like that?" I ask with real curiosity as I never taught her which I was disappointed about but nobody in this prison looks capable of knowing a neat trick like this.

"It was a birthday present." She replies with a smug smile.

I raise my one brow, "Looks like we got the same thing," I reply halfwittedly.

She releases a small chuckle from her lungs, singular not plural. She uncrosses her arms and walks confidently around the body, dodging the blood and passed me without giving me so much as a side-ways glance. I followed her seeing as I do not know my way around the prison. She walks like a cat, her hips in perfect way of the rest of her body, moving along with her steps, her hair that is plaited – not every neat due to the attack – down her back also sways in perfect motion with her body's movement.

"Why have you come back?" She asks abruptly not turning back to look at me but instead she continues on walking down the inner section of the walkway.

"I needed to find you." I reply knowing it wasn't a satisfactory answer but I was not going to tell her about everything until I could find somewhere private.

"But why now?" She spits, "What is so important that you need to come back now?" She hisses as we pace down a pair of rusting stairs to the second floor, my hands clench into fists as anger from her hard word whip me harshly. She stops at a waterfall, well, a broken pipe no one has bothered to fix yet. She splashes the dry blood from her face to return a sense of normality to her facial features before swelling could start.

I grip her upper arm and pull her round to face me. She twists on her heels to crumble into my chest, our faces are so close, my lips almost graze her forehead and her static breathes tickle my neck, "Remember who you're talking too," I growl peering down at her.

"I thought I was talking to a friend." she snaps in reply.

"You are." I insist, "There are some-things bigger than you. Bigger than me." I sneer.

"I am not interested in anything you have to say at the moment." She says and is about to continue when a loud siren cracks through the atmosphere from speakers clipped onto the bars spattered around. Her angry expression changes drastically to pure fear, the little colour in her cheeks drained leaving her a ghostly shade of white.

"_ITS FEEDING TIME." _A grizzly voice of the guard boss splatters through the speakers followed by the loud and blood chilling roars of what sound like multiple creatures. Elisha struggles against my grip frantically and pulls herself free.

She begins to shuffle backwards, "Come on," she beckons, I pause unable to get a grip of what is happening around me as people – mainly men – scream, the banging of cell doors and clanking of chains replace the slams calm atmosphere.

"Richard!" she growls from the end of the walkway. I allow my instincts to take over and I follow her willingly. We race down the walk way to a particular cell with blankets draped over the front, she enters the cell allowing me to slip into a small room before closing the door, removing a concealed chain from beneath the bed to the right, wrapping it around the first bar of the door and the first bar of the cell before moving as far away from the door as possibly pulling the chain tightly.

"What are they?" I ask Elisha who still holds the chain tightly from behind her, I watched these large cat like creatures prowl around the slam in search of slow inmates who do not find shelter quickly enough.

"Hell Hounds," she replies out of breath yet breezily, "The guards control equipment, whenever they need to seize control, the Hell Hounds are released to place us all away." She explains briefly.

The light shines on the closed blankets projecting silhouettes of people and the hounds. A large silhouette of a hound is cast across the blankets, a low pitched gasp was released from the cell by a small child tucked cosily in the arms of an elderly women I recognised. A threatening snarl erupted from outside the cell followed by the ripping away of one of the blankets revealing the creature, half the height of me with scales that coil red when it spots a prey and for us it was no different, however as the creature nears the door, it catches sight of Elisha, it doesn't snap at us, snarl nor bare its teeth. Its bright orange scales recoil back to match the rest of its body, a sutler, ash coloured grey. Elisha lets the chain fall limper as she edges closer to the hound, moving her head in perfect unison with creature. As she stares at the creature, it is almost like she is sending a mental message to it before the hound moves away giving us no problem.

Elisha tightens the chain again in case another far more unfriendly Hell Hound appears.

"How did you do that?" I ask in amazement.

A loud buzzer sounds signifying the end of feeding time. Elisha allows her tense body to relax nicely and lets the chain hang loose to un-loop it from around the rusting bars.

"It is an old trick." She says blandly shoving the chain back under the bed.

She takes the child from the elderly woman's arms without being asked and sits on the edge of the bed with him tucked in her arms. Her entire body oozes with love and devotion for this child who was known to me. The elderly women remained happily positioned on the stool near the back wall of the cell. Her snow white hair was streaked with dark grey that complimented her pale skin nicely; her ice blue eyes burn their way through my face as she studies me like a dangerous bug that needs to be squashed quickly.

Elisha hushes the quietly crying child back to a light sleep before tucking him back into the cot covering him up with multiple blankets, completely oblivious or deliberately ignoring the hundred-and-fifty degree temperature surrounding us. As her hand brushes against mine, my body feels immediately weak limbed and psychotic as the corners of my vision turn black.

My vision goes black blocking out the cell from my sight but the pitch black is ripped open by a orange light to reveal an outside world, dead willowy trees dance in the background, their grey colour stood out boldly against the light orange sky and their roots trail along across the sandy red floor like an Etch-A Sketch. A burst of light fractured the silent planet revealing a confident women standing before me and Elisha, she smiled not with her mouth but with her light green eyes but her sight seemed mainly focused on Elisha, their similar facial features strikes me. Elisha also harvested the mysterious woman's height and build, it then dawns upon me that Elisha never knew her mother, she died the night Elisha was born. The woman's dark brown hair was braided with silver streaks and she stood in front of hundred and hundreds of grey headstones that marked individual graves.

"_Some of us still remember the true crime that happened here on Furya. And when you both wake, truly wake, you both will remember too." _She says strongly pressing her hand on her chest – the space above her heart – and stretched out an arm towards Elisha first, the woman's hand shifts to transparent transferring a ghostly hand print onto her chest. Elisha twitches awkwardly as a glowing print soaked into her skin. The women then done the same to me, the hand print burns like a hot press beneath my skin.

As the print fades, the corners of my vision glitches but instead with darkness, it glitches with a blinding white light making the planet disappear from around us and reformed the darkly lit cell. Elisha's grip on my arm loosens worryingly. The sensitive hairs covering the surface area of my arm felt the air shift around Elisha's body, I turn quickly to catch her limp body in my sturdy arms way before she was endanger of hitting the floor.

"Elisha?" I ask, my voice no more than a whisper as I laid her down on the bed beside the young child. The elderly women removed herself from the stool to waddle over to Elisha's unconscious body, she pulls down the neckline of her shirt – not exposing anything – to study the moving outline of the hand print pressing from the inside of her. I looked down to see my chest doing the same thing, it was almost like the women was inside of us, trying to break free with no regard for the damage she may cause.

The elderly women mutters something under her breath, too quiet for me to hear but when she finishes, Elisha's body explodes back to life, she sits bolt upright in on top of the bed, sweat gathering in her chest area and face. The women removed herself from the bedside and reseated herself on the stool.

"What happened?" she asks glancing up at me but when neither of us don't answer, she slips off the bed to stand next to me and turns to face the women, "Sybil?"

The elderly women – Sybil – stares at us like a pair of dead relatives some back to life. Her entire body begins to twitch violently before shifting from solid to ghostly transparent.

She is an Elemental.

I raised an eyebrow in mock surprise when in fact I am pleased to discover what she is. "You're an Elemental." I state from behind Elisha who turns around with wide eyes filled with confusion, her mouth hangs open slightly revealing the uneven line of her bottom teeth.

"A what?" She asks.

I advert my gaze from her to Sybil, who stares coldly at me. I give her a look as if to say; _you know better than I do. _Sybil gives me a irritated glare – the sort of look you would give a young child who had drawn on the walls with permanent marker – her pursed her lips and squinted her eyes narrowly at me. I step forward to stand level with Elisha.

"Elementals are a race that decide their actions on the result of complex calculations rather than personal opinions or feelings or emotions," Sybil says sourly, "But since I have been in here, I've been forced to do quite the opposite."

Elisha's face tenses in unison of her body as her words slowly sink into her skull, "What are you in here for?" She asks, her voice oozed with curiosity amongst other emotions that I couldn't pinpoint but as the question leaves Elisha's lips, Sybil's eyes dart uncomfortably in my direction. Elisha follows Sybil's gaze, adopting the same angry stare.

"What did you do?" She asks me venomously.

My eyes widen in shock as my shoulders push back, "Nothing, I swear to you."

Our eyes turn back to Sybil who stares back at us, "I am here because of a fate I delivered to a powerful Necromonger commander named Zhylaw, just shy of thirty years now. He lead an attack on Furya in an attempt to void his fate that he would be killed by a young Furyan, preferably male."

"_True crime that happened here on Furya..." _The woman's voice rattled through my skull, _"When you truly wake, you both will remember too." _

"Furya?" Elisha asks, "Never heard of it."

"It has been destroyed for a more thirty years. I am surprised anyone but you and Mr Riddick have hear about it," Sybil replies.

"But what does that have to do with us?" Elisha asks defensively, "That planet – Furya – has been dead long before I was even born."

Sybil chuckles, "You mother, Shirah, escaped with Riddick's heavily pregnant mother long before the commander had planned to strike. They hid away before the Necromonger's found them on Ubrion." She pauses, "Riddick's mother was killed for resisting to convert but your mother, Elisha, was pregnant and brought here with young Riddick."

Elisha steps forward, "What does this Necromonger crap have to actually do with us?"

Sybil stands wobbly and lowers the he, of Elisha's shirt down in a respectful manor like she while Elisha was unconscious, a fate outline of a hand print still lingers on her skin. Sybil releases the hem of Elisha's shirt allowing it to cover her back up before gently pulling the hem of my vest down to reveal the same faint marking.

The elderly women gasps, "This happens once in a lifetime, when a male and female are both marked by an elder, they are bound to each other." Sybil says quietly ignoring Elisha's eyes grew wider with confusion, "You both carry a very important mark, this comes with a very important role."

"What's that?" I ask.

"You, Riddick, are an Alpha male Furyan." Sybil says to me before turning to Elisha who looks as if she has frozen stiff, "You, Elisha, are an Alpha female Furyan." she raises her hands to involve both of us, "A powerful pair."

_A powerful Alpha pair. _The words climbed over my brain, racketing at my skull trying to find a way in but they are rejected. I turn to touch Elisha's arm but she recoils from my touch.

"What are Necromonger's?" she asks, the question was open to anyone but I remain silent.

"They are the race that believes in a faith where you must be purified and they will kill anyone who refuses to take on their faith but will convert and spare, all those who will. They will change every last human life." Sybil replies angrily.

"And these Furyan's...Richard and I...we are the only people who can stop these aliens." She asks, her voice shakes with sickness.

I nod.

"Is that why your here?" she asks, turning to face me, the ridges of her eyes were lined with tears as I nod again.

"I was captured on a planet called Helion Prime by Necromonger's, they searched my thoughts and found memories of you. I managed to escape but was brought here by Merc's, who no doubt couldn't cover their tracks, their not going to stop until we are dead or converted." I tell her.

Her confused expression filters away and becomes angry as her entire body begins to shake with nerves or adrenaline.

"So you came back to tell me that I was going to die?" She asks, "All for some bullshit faith I don't want to believe in?"

I shake my head defensively, "No, I never said that. I left because I was – am – no good for you, as long as I was away from you, Elisha you were safe," I tell her.

"_Were_?" she shakes her head, "What are you trying to pitch Riddick?" she hisses, "That you had my ass protected from across the Universe, leaving without a word before goodbye was too hard only to show up again, seven years later to tell me some bat-shit crazy ghost army wants me dead for a heritage I wasn't aware of until five minutes ago!?" she yells.

"Elisha." I say soothingly reaching out to touch her arm but she bats it away viciously.

Her lips are separate with anger, her body ridged; every muscle in her body was tense with her small, child-like hands curled into fists.

"Fuck you." she snarls at me before turning to Sybil, her anger is masked by hurt, "Why did you not tell me about all of this?"

Sybil remained silent, Elisha turns sharply on the heels of her flat boots and charges passed me. I attempt to grab her but she is far too quick, I left the cell calling her name trying to dart after her but as I go to grab the back of the shirt she wore, Elisha leapt over the second floor balcony before I even had the slightest chance.


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight.

_Elisha's POV *_

"You're too close to my eye." I whine jerking my head away, pulling the already sewed thread tighter whilst squeezing my eyes shut.

Dakota sighs heavily, "If you hadn't noticed, the cut is above your eye and if you don't stay still I am going to poke your eye out just to make a point." She threatens as he re-pinches the skin either side of the cut above my eyebrow before suturing it together in neat strokes. She weaves the needle painlessly through my numb skin whilst gently dabbing the little blood that seeps out with a small cloth.

I keep my right eye shut as Dakota stitches above it leaving my left eye to keep a look out for a wandering Richard but luckily the figure who emerged from outside the cell was not Richard, instead it was Pharrell's muscular limbed body drinking carefully from a steaming metal mug. She took one long and hard look at my face before tutting and shaking his head.

"You look like hell," he remarks breezily, "What happened?"

I raised my eyebrows at his comments and stupid question only to receive a gentle slap from Dakota on the shoulder, "Wyclef." I replied.

Pharrell's face erupted with mockery shock, "The newbie? Ouch, where is he now?" he ask.

A small chuckle releases itself from my lips," In the first stage of digestion in a Hell Hounds stomach." I tell him.

"They caught him?" Pharrell asks taking a seat on the metal bench beside the doorway.

Dakota releases a high-pitched chuckle of her own, "Oh no, Hell Hounds had nothing to do with his death, isn't that right Elisha?"

I grit my teeth as Pharrell's mouth fell open in a real shock. "You ghosted him?" he asks.

My body reacted in a half-hearted shrug, "He deserved it."

"Why'd he attack you any ways? Cannot image you giving him any grief." Dakota asks. "All finished." she then announces no shy of a second later pulling away from my head.

I smile at her whilst tracing the tips of my fingers along the top of the stitches, "Thank you." I say gratefully before turning back to Pharrell, "And he wanted to know why I have eyes like I do."

Pharrell smiled inwardly flashing us a glimpse of his white teeth, "Wouldn't we all like to know the answer to that," he chuckles light-heartedly but my body felt strangely tensed by his comical answer.

I stand up wobbly legged from the chair and paced over at a reasonable speed over to the back of the cell where Dakota stood waiting by an old metal trunk that is tented with small chunks missing, holding out a thin looking fabric jumper.

"Change into this." She commands.

I strip off my ripped top – aware of Pharrell's hawk-like eyes focused on my bare back – and pulled on the substitute top given to me by Dakota. As I yanked the hem of the item of clothing down my body whilst slipping my arms into the correct holes I realised the jumper was actually a half-sleeve top that due to the difference in mine and Dakota's torso size, was too small for me so it exposed a small section of my stomach but I was just thankful to be out of my blood stained; ripped shirt.

"Did you guys get a look of the new inmate?!" Pharrell's chuckles loudly with a sense of over excitement, "It was Riddick!"

My heart leaps to my throat, I turned to Dakota who's skin was pale with nerves.

"The Riddick?" she asks.

My heart leaps into the chattering space between my teeth as Dakota's voice oozes with familiarization at the mention of his name and my stomach twists with how freely she says his name. How does she know him?

"How do you know him?" I ask in a desperate attempt to keep my voice level and not to choke.

Dakota raises an eyebrow with her face portraying a teasing expression, "I've met him before..." she trails off.

Pharrell stand up like an animal, "Was he a..._customer_?" he asks, his silver-tongued voice was no more than a whisper, his lips were situated dangerously close to Dakota's ear. My voice was caught in my throat blocking my airways.

In reply to Pharrell's teasing manor, Dakota licks her lips and turns to face him, their noses graze each other gently and I suddenly feel awkward and like a third-wheel but my postponed movement was all done to the unanswered question lingering in the air of the cell.

"He was a customer." Dakota admitted.

_I think I am going to be sick._

Pharrell opens his mouth – which is curled up in a smile – to speak but Dakota smiles wickedly and speaks before he does, "But that was a long, long time ago..."

my body is frozen stiff like a statue, sickness creeps in and out of my gut as I stare at Dakota like Sybil stared at Richard, ice for eyes as she laughs off Pharrell like he is no more than a silly nerdy boy with a crush on the most popular girl in school. Like he is no more than dirt on the bottom of her shoe.

"_You are bound to each other." a feminine voice whispers through my mind, rattling against my skull awkwardly._

"Elisha..." a distant voice called snapping me back to reality allowing my brain to realise the blurry voice was Dakota's thickly accented voice. "Are you okay?"

_You mean aside from the overwhelming urge to vomit? _"I'm okay." I reply breaking my aimless stare at them.

She raises an eyebrow in perfect unison with Pharrell, "Good..." she mumbles as she heads towards the rusting cell door, "I'm gonna go get some tea...or soup...or whatever their giving out..." she trails off in deep thought about the dinning area, "Want anything?" she offers after a minute of silence.

I shake my head and retake the seat leant up against the wall, then she leaves giving my a lingering gaze of worry.

"How do you know him?" Pharrell asks me once we couldn't hear Dakota's footsteps anymore.

I stare down at my bruised knuckles, "I don't." I reply defensively, too defensively.

Pharrell gets up from the metal bench he appears to comfy on, grips the front two legs and pulls the chair bearing my weight across the stone floor without a single problem. He placed the chair in front of the bench close enough so the front of the chair and the sharp uneven edge of the bench were touching. Pharrell leans in, his blue eyes looked even more crystal like close up, his skin was blemished and glistened with sweat.

Pharrell raised an eyebrow, "Are you sure? Your expression and attitude towards Dakota changed instantly."

I shrug, "I'm just surprised that's all." I lie.

He scoffs, "You knew Dakota was a whore, you never seemed bothered about the men before, until this one man was mentioned."

"I...I – "

Failure to reply only confirmed Pharrell's theory but also gave him space to act, he removes a small bandage wrapped around his left forearm to reveal the twenty-six small indentations of my teeth marks healing gradually into his tanned flesh.

"You've changed since he was lowered into this prison." He whispers, leaning in closer to me, "He is a passed boyfriend?"

I roll my eyes with a smile, "No," I whisper back.

Pharrell's fingertips gently traces my cheekbones leaving a lingering tingle on my skin as he traces every scar and blemish apparent on my face, his clear blue eyes never leave mine making a shiver accelerate up and down my spin. He traces his left hand along my jawline and off the tip of my chin whereas his right continues up the curve of my chin to the corner of my mouth. My lips absorb any moisture that remained on the surface in a nervous panic, Pharrell drags the level edges of his teeth along the surface of his bottom lip as he glides his thumb over my dry bottom lip. I attempt to swallow the hard lump that had formed in my throat but it remained stuck making breathing more difficult, Pharrell removes his thumb from my lip but not from my face giving my a quick free second to glide my rough tongue over my lips wetting them slightly, my stomach twisted and knotted as his dominating hands clutch my face in a gentle manor and tilt my head upwards slightly to face him better. He looks down at my lips and smiles slightly, almost evilly.

"Close your eyes..." he tell me softly.

I hesitate for a moment but then obey him, I push the thoughts of Richard – Riddick – away with the firm belief that he wasn't thinking off me when he fucked Dakota, only to return and believe that because some transparent being tells us we are bound to each other, it is true and he as some Furyan claim over me.

I am so deep in hateful thoughts about Riddick I am not even aware Pharrell's soft lips have met mine already, he is surprisingly gentle as he lips parted to deepen the kiss but as he does, a searing pain burst through my brain whipping against my skull, Pharrell yells with pain breaking the kiss darting backwards away from me. I stand up too quickly for me to keep my balance knocking the chair backwards as the screeching pain rattles through my skull, I crumble down to the ground like a small child trying to above a slap from its parent.

"_BOUND TO EACH OTHER...NO ONE ELSE." _the high-pitched voice screamed with blood boiling anger. My skin begins to burn with the heat of her fury.

My skin itches with excruciating painful licks of pain. My screams echo through the prisons interior and it wasn't long until Dakota was hunched over me gripping my shoulders only making the pain in that area worsen, her voice becomes disoriented as the corners of my vision goes black and blurry. Pharrell's yelps are in synchronisation with mine and it isn't long until she gives up with yelling at me and tries to help Pharrell who is not in any better condition.

Face stare at us but no one helps, they watch us with black soulless eyes as I revel in the pain brought on by an act of revenge looking back on it, aside from the searing pain my body is twitching and jerking about from, the kiss was not worth it; I feel foolish, childish and I now know my devotion to him now, what I must do.

Almost like a calling, I hear a deep voice yell for the crowd to move as yelps of pain begin to burst free from the crowd of inmates. Dakota swivels around on her heels with disbelief painted all over her face as he doesn't even acknowledge her.

My eyelids flutter and twitch as the pain reaches my eyes, my teeth clench together with such force I fear they may break but I don't care, anything for the pain to stop. Riddick's large hands grip my face in the same manor that Pharrell had, gentle with no real force; as he does the pain begins to retract. His touch ices away the burning pain from my face and like the ripple on the surface of the water, the pain gentle begins to retract from my limps.

"Elisha?" his voice breaks the silence barrier the pain had created.

I breath heavily as my chest relaxes allowing my lungs to expand without trouble, my heart felt as if it had shrunk to its original size, pumping correctly to push much needed oxygen to my stiff limbs but I couldn't move, I was numb. Although my vision was greatly impaired, I lifted my lids to look at the blurred mess that was Riddick's face, his glowing eyes like beacons. I groan what was meant to be a thank you but I am completely oblivious to the noise that is projected from me instead.

Riddick released a sigh of what sounded like relief as I made whatever noise my body released which sounded more like a dying Hell Hound than a thank you. He hooks his muscular arm beneath my knees and the other around the middle of my back beneath my arms, I clutch onto him around the neck with whatever strength I can muster from my sleepy limbs.

"It's okay," he assures me as my body squirms unintentionally.

Pharrell's yells of pain have stopped also but I do not get a glimpse of him as Riddick carries me from the cell and through the crowd. My head rests deliberately on his chest, my ear perfectly situated on the section of his chest over his heart. The bones of his ribcage rattles against the cartilage and soft tissue that makes up my ear.

The dim lights of the slam walkways slowly fade passed, my eyelids begin to collapse in on myself as my limbs refuse to fight against the tiredness. Riddick hushes my whimpers that pass my lips without much awareness.

"You're okay. You can sleep." Riddick tells me as his arms tighten around my body as he carries me like a child.

Staring up at the rocky ceiling, large dark patches begin to blotch out the artificial light. And soon, the light is no longer existent as my upper eyelid fell to meet my lower lashes indulging my weak limbed body in a deep sleep.

_**Please review...**_


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine.

_*Riddick's POV *_

She sleeps silently and curled up like a small child, her body is turned on its side with her left arm supporting her head and her right arm hangs limply over her body clutching onto her left elbow. The cut above her eyebrow has been neatly sewed closed by one of the other inmates, the edges of the flesh was gently rippling with a light shade of purple. Brushing my fingertips lightly across the surface of her knuckles trying to examine the damage, they are severely scratched but gently coloured. Out of curiosity I removed the string in the end of her plaited hair and began to untangle it to see how her natural hair really was; the ruthless curls of her hair frames her pale face in a wild mess. I rest my palm onto her roaring hot cheek and stroke my thumb across the rough surface of her skin, her unconscious lips release a groan and her body shifts to re-comfort itself.

"You really needn't worry yourself," the distant and oh so matter-of-factly voice of Sybil informs me from the doorway, "This is probably the first real sleep she has had for a while."

I continue to stroke her face, "It is not the fact she is sleeping that worries me." I snap at Sybil as she moves from the doorway to walk across the small cell to the stool neatly tucked away in the corner, her ice cold eyes hover over me like a dark rain cloud. A heavy sigh releases itself from between my lips as the swelling of guilt starts to build in the pit of my stomach. "Will she be okay?" I ask.

"Yes Riddick, she will be just fine." Sybil smiles, "Luckily her mind is just as strong as her heart."

I chuckle lightly before turning my head slowly to look at her, "Do you think it will happen again?" I ask.

It was her turn to chuckle softly, "It in not in my nature to give my opinion, however, due to recent events both of you have witnessed – for Elisha actually experienced first hand – I can firmly and confidently say no," she replies. "You both now know what happens if one of you crosses the boundary made by your bond."

"What about the age difference?" I ask.

"It doesn't matter, age is no reason for you two to disobey the rules of your bond." Sybil replies simply.

I licked the inner rim of my bottom lip and growl angrily but my anger is not directed at Sybil nor is it directed at Elisha but at myself – maybe if I had not of come back non of this would have happened, in the mist of the silence I can still hear inside my head her pain filled screams, luckily I wasn't far away when whatever happened inside that cell. I just remember the overwhelming urge to hug her and as I look at her now, I couldn't image life without her.

Oh fuck...what the hell is happening to me, since bloody when to I say sloppy shit like that? Since when do I feel attached to someone else especially someone as young as Elisha; she has no say in this, either of us did.

Can it be love? No, love is a stupid, meaningless human emotion. Yet my heart palpitates whenever I glance at her, the longer I look, the faster my heart gets.

Fucking hell. This is it.

I love her.

"Come on, wake up." I plea.


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten.

_*Elisha's POV *_

_Adrenaline pumps through my veins as I glide my fingertips along the jagged broken stone walls to keep my balance as I exit the crumbling stone monuments to mix in with the mayhem I could not understand, amongst the hazy flickers of flames licking the air and attacking the surroundings. I try to make sense of what is happening or where I even am but my brain remains like scrambled egg that has been left out and gone stale. My weak limbed body crookedly bends forward to keep what I have left of my balance to narrowly escape the collapsing roof of the ruin behind me; enter what is left of a village clearing inside a centre of buildings built in a circular form but as I scan the area quickly I realise it is a market square, or a meeting ground._

_My head hangs heavy on my shoulders as I looked around, to my right behind the fallen burning mess of a wooden barn, the land stretches out into grassland but laid out in front and to my right was the remainders of a burning village – a village I am unaware of – discarded bodies of children and adults mixed with those in between lay amongst the ruins. My feet felt as if they had been chained to the ground restricting me, my eyes settled on a muscular women picking up a child in her arms before scurrying away from the destruction at a blinding speed mixing in with the equally as foggy figures clinging to their children, siblings or parents as they rushed from the beacon of burning buildings – many successfully dodged the falling ruins, others weren't so quick – cracking trees and dying livestock._

_My chest tightens as my throat beings to swell to the size of a pin-head as the thick smoke filling the air makes it twice as difficult for oxygen and clean air to break through. I cover my mouth and nose using my hands, the fuzzy purple picture of my vision becomes watery as my eyes tear up due to the irritation caused by the thick smoke however through the cloud I noticed a large man wearing chunky silver amour with two identical faces welded onto his shoulders, in his right hand he carried a silver weapon unlike any of the guns I had seen previously; on his head the male wears a strange helmet that protects the entire surface of his head expect from his eyes that were night sky black, soulless without any colour._

_Sharp pains flutter through my chest as my heart speeds up too quickly causing it to shatter into sharp splinters piercing my organs at the sight of a young boy, no older than ten, crying along side the body of someone. The man in amour stands ridged yet strong several meters from the child and studies him before raising the silver gun and aims in accurately at the defenceless child._

_Anger surges through my body as my muscles tense, "Hey! Stop!" I scream fighting the chains at my ankles to pace down the crumbling stone steps, I break the barrier made by my body and raced forward across the grass, the man in amour turns swiftly to raise the gun at me with no mercy, the child sees his chance to escape a horrible fate and sprints off into the darkness and as I turn to do the same, the armoured male pulls the trigger sending a coloured wave like a sound-wave through the air meeting my body, the wave sucks in the fire near by causing an explosion within the field that shatters my eardrums whisking my body from the floor forcing my through the air in an unknown direction._

_For a split-second, I was blind, deaf and lost in an abyss but as I felt my body begin to fall, the pain filled screams erupt from around me filling the air, a faint orange light forms beneath me allowing my body to plummet out of the darkness and back into the blinding light..._

My eyes dart open as a sharp magnetising pain travels through my body making it jerk with my heart palpitating rapidly inside my chest with an overwhelming sickness leaping from my stomach with the feeling of my spiritual body had replaced itself – or more fallen back – into the hollow cocoon of my now conscious body. My shoulders and elbows cracked as I used them to shuffle my body backwards to lean upright against the cold metal bars of the front of the cell, gasping for dense air my lungs did not require yet my body felt was necessary.

The cell was vacant and quiet. A yellow light flickers unhelpfully in the far left corner beside the jagged cell wall. I whipped off the blanket that covered the surface of my body to swing my legs round to rest my booted feet on the hot floor and leant forward to rest my elbows on my knees and ran my hand through my hair whilst wondering who the hell had undone the tie, leaving it to curl wildly. Laziness oozed from my pores resulting in me lacking enough movement to tie my loose hair, so instead I pushed the mess backwards before arising from the mattress to snatch a short sleeved, baggy t-shirt from hanging on the end of the bed.

I exit the cell and enter out onto the walkway of the second floor not even glancing to see if Sybil sat to the right in her usual place of cell protector. I would have ignored her anyway. My knees buckles beneath the weight of my tired body as I speed walked towards the wall of water created by the burst pipe, hidden behind the wall of liquid was a small cave opening, just tall enough for me to stand up straight inside and wide enough for me to turn around without scraping across the pointy walls.

I stood behind the wall of water in the dry section of the cave and kicked off my boots; removed my clothing, throwing them to the ground with annoyance at the previous events that left me shaken, confused and flat-out embarrassed. Years of thinking and stupidly believing I was grown up and able to defend for myself but the first time someone truly annoys me, I go and deify clear instructions like a stupid and childish little girl demanding to be respected and wanting to see how far the boundaries are. Why? I am unaware of any good reason to act like a child. Maybe I still am.

_No, you're an adult, your seventeen, old enough to make your own decision. _My defiant voice growls inside my head.

I sigh heavily. I cupped my hands to collect a handful of cold water and washed away the grease, dry blood and dirt from my skin, the surface area of my ribs on my right-side have began to colour with faint purple and blue blotches. I turn around to face the back of the cave to allow space for me to tip my head backwards to soak my hair in the running water before stepping into the dry section, ringing my hair to get rid of the excess water.

The thin layer of water that glistened across the surface of my skin dried rather quickly in the searing heat. I slipped on my trousers before struggling like a toddler to find the correct holes for my arms, once I have correctly directed my arms into the right place, I pulled the shirt over my head then dragged it down the length of my body. I was much happier and more comfortable with the largeness of this shirt compared to the one Dakota kindly allowed me to borrow. This shirt hung to my thighs, to shorten the brown fabric, I tucked it into the waistband of my trousers, the shirt hangs loosely around my middle hiding the even layer of fatness that protects my stomach – or so I like to think.

I chewed the already raw inside of my mouth releasing fresh, metallic taste of blood as I scrunched up the hair closest to my scalp in my hands, I inhaled deeply processing the musky smell of sweat and leather booth, masculine smells. My body becomes ridged as I brush my hair to the side revealing the back of my neck as I begin to braid small sections of hair. A shiver catapulted down my spine causing me to scrape my nails across the bare skin underneath the fabric brining faint lines of sticky red moister.

"You shouldn't do that." a thick voice spoke from behind me making me leap unexpectedly digging my nails deeper into my skin by accident.

I turned swiftly on my bare heels to reveal the voice belonged to Riddick, who stood inside the cave behind me with his back to the trailing water. My heart accelerated inside my chest knocking against my ribs. I raised my eyebrow at him.

"Bounded together and suddenly you think you can tell me what to do?" I ask rhetorically.

Riddick copied my facial expression, "I never said I did." he grunted.

I slip on my boots and collect the old shirt from the floor before turning to face Riddick. He watches me with hawk-like eyes like I am a wounded animal, he steps forward pushing me backwards against the wall pressing himself against me with no space to fight back mixed with no will to do so either, I melted into his connection. Melted into the animal.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his deep voice no more than a whisper as he leans in closer, our eyes never breaking contact until he abruptly crushes his lips against mine before I can reply. Our kisses become aggressive as we begin to fill with ecstasy. He snags my bottom lip seductively between his straight edged teeth causing a pleasurable moan to escape my throat. My nails dug like small knives into the flesh at the base of his skill as my body stretches and struggles to continue meeting his lips.

His hands trailed down my back leaving a line of shivers and fire as he gripped the top of my thighs, lifting me from the floor, oblivious to the low cave ceiling. His large palmed hands cup my thighs keeping my up as I wrap my legs around his waist, once I had, his hands slip higher to start un-tucking my shirt from the waistband of my trousers. I pull my mouth away from his as my body trembles with nervous energy.

"What's the matter?" he whispers to me, his voice edged with concern as he grazed gently his nose along the tip of mine, his muscular right hand reaches up to move a cluster of my curly hair that had fallen in front of my face, he traces the edge of the stitches of the cut on my forehead before cupping the left side of my face tenderly.

I smile shyly at him whilst shaking my head, "Just catching my breath." I whisper back.

Riddick chuckles quietly before pecking me on the lips as the sound of approaching voices stuns us silently, we remained entwined together, our lips close enough to be kissing but instead we listen intently to the voices as they pass unknowingly of our presence.

"Are you not worried? Do you not see the way he looks at her?" a masculine voice asks with a venous hiss, "And how he acts so dominate around her, its disgusting, she's young enough to be his niece for fuck sake."

A huff projects itself from the second person's lips, "Will you let it go?" a female voice snaps angrily, it was Dakota, "Stop mollycoddling her, you do remember what happened right? Plus she is old enough to make her own decisions."

The male, who by process of elimination had to be Pharrell, took a sharp intake of air in reaction to the memory and huffed as they continued on.

Riddick's body suddenly shuddered violently and recoiled away from me, he shrugged me off with an emotion I could not understand, he was physically annoyed but his shrug wasn't violent. My feet retouched the ground steadily and tensed awkwardly as he stayed close to me, our bodies still touching but he was ridged and unfriendly.

"What's the matter?" I ask.

He licks the inner rim of his bottom lip nervously, "You need to understand that if I kiss you again, you're mine." he growls sternly with a hint of aggression.

My body shivered as his words rattled through my skull and sunk into my brain. _His, _the idea was more appealing to me than what I originally thought it would be, a life with Riddick protected and safe, it is any girls hope and it is not like Riddick could not protect me, he is "_The_ Riddick" as Pharrell put it.

"Are you with me?" he asks after a minute of silence.

_His forever? _

I licked my lips whilst forcefully swallowing the lump of tension that had formed in my throat and then allowed a inward smile to creep across my face, "I'm with you." I reply in a whisper.

_His forever. Sounds good to me._

**A/N: If you enjoy please review! – VA.16.**


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